College Years
by staceycj
Summary: This story deals with college and the Winchesters.
1. Chapter 1

School ended late for Dean Winchester on Monday. He had a thirty minute detention with a teacher who really and truly didn't like him much. It might have something to do with the comment he made about how she looked like a picnic table, but he hadn't meant for her to actually hear it. But still, the mistake had been made and now every single time he breathed a breath too hard he found himself in detention. Today Mrs. Picnic Table had him clean the entire classroom, organize papers and wash the chalk board. It didn't really matter he supposed, he would be free of school in a couple months time anyway.

As he approached the door to the apartment they currently inhabited, he heard his brother and father arguing. Dean sighed; it had to be bad if he could hear them outside of the door.

"Dad! I want to go to the party."

"There is a poltergeist—"

"I don't care! I want to live a normal life."

"That isn't for us Sammy?"

"Why not? Because something killed a mother I don't remember? And now you are on some holy quest to find it? That isn't my fight dad! That is yours and Dean's. Go ask your perfect soldier of a son to fix the poltergeist problem!" Dean flinched at the angry words. His stomach flipped when Sam called him a perfect soldier. He didn't want to be thought of as that to his little brother. He didn't really want to be a soldier. He was afraid, though, that that was all he was good for.

"Dean is a good son. Maybe you should try being one."

"A good son. Huh." Sam ran a hand through his longish hair and his teeth clenched. Dean knew that this meant that Sam was rearing up for another go at their father. "So, let me get this straight. A good son is one who doesn't think for himself. Who doesn't want his own life. One that does everything you say without question. Without hesitation. Well, then Dean can have the title of good son. I don't want to be a mindless witless empty person that allows you to fill them up with anything and then pours it out the way you tell him to. No thank you! I want to be my own person, I want to be…" Sam stopped when he saw Dean standing in the doorway. Sam's face went slack. He meant what he had said to his father, but he never wanted Dean to hear what he was saying.

"Dean." he said quietly. Dean shook his head absolving him from his words. They hurt more than any knife that had ever been plunged into his body by outside forces. It hurt more than anything he had ever felt, it was suffocating, and like a weight pressing on his stomach, but he wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't going to make Sam feel guilty for who he was or what he felt about things. Sammy had every right to think and feel the way he did. He wasn't going to "fill him up and make him pour it out" in any way other than how Sammy wanted to. Dean cleared his throat.

"So you found out that it is a poltergeist?" Dean asked as he took off his tattered jean jacket, the one that he had kept wearing in order for Sammy to have the new one he wanted; there just hadn't been enough money for two. It didn't matter, as long as Sammy had what he needed.

"Yeah. We need to go out there tonight." John said adequately distracted from his youngest son.

"Okay. Cool. What do you need me to do?" Dean gave Sam the look that meant get out while the getting is good. Sam nodded, swallowed hard, and hurried away from the situation. After their father had explained what needed done, Dean decided to be brave and confront their father.

"Dad, let Sammy go. It's just a routine thing. We'll be fine. There is no reason-"

"Dean. He needs to learn.."

"What? That evil is everywhere? He knows that."

"He needs to learn loyalty."

"To a cause he doesn't believe in?"

"No, to family."

"He is loyal." Dean said with some effort. "He needs to learn how to have fun. He's 14. Maybe he just needs to be with people his own age." Dean shrugged. He saw the war playing out in his father's mind. "Dad. Mom would want him to be happy." Dean didn't play the mom card often and when he did it usually worked, and like normal his father relented and headed off towards the bedroom where Sam and Dean slept to talk to his youngest son.

Dean sighed and sat at the kitchen table replaying all of the words that Sam had said. Each time he was left with holes in his heart that bled. He thought he had done right by that kid, but he thought wrong. He would do better, be a better brother. Be what Sam wanted him to be. Something.

Dean had been especially careful the week of his birthday, to not do anything to get his teacher's panties in a knot and give him detention, because he was looking forward to spending his 18th birthday watching bad movies with his little brother and eating popcorn. That was his ideal birthday. Sam had said that he would stay with him.

Dean opened the mailbox and was surprised to find an envelope in there. Even more surprised to find that it was addressed to Dean R. Winchester. He carefully opened it and found an acceptance letter to the University of South Dakota.

"Well, I'll be damned." He said under his breath. "They will let anyone into college." Unexpectedly happy, because he had only applied on a whim, right after Sam had called him a perfect mindless soldier—he had wanted to prove that he had been more than that, and apparently someone else agreed. Excited to show his brother, he went inside. Sam was putting his coat on.

"Goin' out to get the videos?" Dean asked happily.

"No. Goin' out with my friends."

"Oh." Dean said slowly. Sam must have forgotten his promise. Dean nodded. "Have fun little brother." Sam smiled and headed out of the door. Dean looked back down at the acceptance letter and realized that he couldn't go. Someone had to take care of Sammy and their dad wouldn't be the one. Maybe when Sam turned 18. Maybe. He threw the letter in the trash and lay down on his bed and listened to his walkman Metallica would make it all better. He allowed the pounding beat to fill his head and distract him from his thoughts. And that distraction led him to dreamless sleep.

Sam came home later that evening and found Dean in his bed sleeping. Sam had realized belatedly that today was his brother's birthday and that he had promised to spend the evening with him watching movies and eating pop corn. That was all Dean had wanted for his birthday. A 2 dollar rental movie, his brother, and a dollar bag of popcorn. Sam hated himself for it.


	2. College isn't for me

Dean's birthday had fallen on a Friday, and when he awoke early on Saturday, because since there had been no one to watch movies or eat popcorn with, he had fallen asleep early. Their father was still on a hunt and Sammy was sleeping soundly in the bed next to his.

He turned and looked at his baby brother and tried to be angry at him for all that he said a couple of days before and for not staying with him to partake in his birthday festivities, but he couldn't. He just couldn't make himself be angry. He felt a little guilty that he relied so heavily on his brother for friendship, most guys his age didn't want their baby brothers tagging along after them and spoke of them as if they were insects that needed squashed rather than people who needed nurtured and loved.

He finally got out of bed, and was headed to the bathroom when he passed the trashcan. Looking down he could still see the South Dakota University logo on that pristine white paper. He hesitated and then picked it back up out of the trash, read it again, folded it into a neat smaller square and put it in his top drawer. It couldn't hurt to keep it, he reasoned as he stacked clothing on top of the folded paper.

Stepping into the shower he contemplated going to college. Walking down the halls of higher education, belonging there, not just an outsider there to hunt something and save innocent lives that wouldn't even know they were being saved. He imagined having friends, people that weren't his brother, people that would remember his birthday and throw a big party. A party with beer, chicks and gifts. Gifts. The thought made him smile. In addition to the party he would have a steady girlfriend, one who made him feel strong, needed and wanted. He would be her man and she would rely on him to do things, to be there for her and to help her with her homework and to deal with her family problems, and she would just be there to talk to and to relate to him.

Then there was the whole thought of studying something that he was interested in. Sam thought that he was only interested in hunting, chicks and his car, but he was interested in a lot of things and sometimes he thought that maybe, just maybe that he could do something else with his life. He really and truly wanted a wife and children. He wanted to live that normal life that Sam was always talking about, but he knew that that life wasn't in the cards for him. It could be in the cards for his little brother though, and if he could do it, he would make sure Sam got that life. Got to have the family that Dean wanted, got to have the college education that Dean wished he could have, and the normal safe life that didn't involve anything supernatural that ate people. Dean sighed and turned off the water.

"Well," Dean said to his reflection. "If I can't have it, maybe I can live through Sam. Maybe I can be the cool Uncle or something." Dean sighed as he prepared to shave. He knew that would never happen. Sam would go to college and disappear and wouldn't welcome the intrusion of his mindless witless soldier of a brother.

Morning ablutions completed Dean went into the kitchen and fixed himself breakfast, pulled his math book from his book bag and began to look things over. He must have been more engrossed in the text than he realized because he jumped when the phone on the wall next to him started ringing. After he reined his heart back into his chest, he picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Dean?"

"Bobby?"

"Hey there son! I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to call you yesterday. I had a customer who was a pain in the ass. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday." Dean couldn't help but smile. This was actually the first birthday wish he had received.

"Thanks Bobby."

"So, 18 eh? What did you do with yourself? Have some nice little gal over there?" Bobby laughed gruffly.

"No. I listened to my walkman and called it a night." There was silence on the other end.

"Wasn't your daddy?"

"No. Dad is on a hunt and Sammy went out with friends. No big deal really." Dean shrugged and looked down at the math book again.

"Dean…"

"I got accepted into the University of South Dakota." He said trying to change the subject.

"Well I'll be damned! I'm proud of you son." Dean felt his whole face light up. Someone was proud of him and it had nothing to do with his ability to hold a gun or his ability to kill the biggest and baddest supernatural thing on the block. It was all about his smarts. He wasn't used to being known for anything but the brawn in the family.

"It's not really that big of a deal."

"The hell it ain't. You done good! You gonna come live with me and go to school?" Dean had never thought of that. He could go live with Bobby and go to school. He could still hunt and he could have a stable family. He could have everything he ever wanted. Then he thought of Sam. Thought of him being alone with his father and he remembered why he couldn't pack up and go to school.

"No. I just applied to see if I could get in. It turns out they will let anyone go to college." He said attempting to deflect with humor.

"Dean.." Dean heard the older man sigh on the other end. "You are allowed to do things that you want to do."

"I want to stay and hunt with dad." He lied.

"You can't leave your brother." Bobby said perceptively.

"Eh, it doesn't matter Bobby." Dean shrugged. "I need to go. Sammy needs to go to the library today. He has a big project due and I can't let him fall behind in school." Dean heard Bobby sigh on the other end.

"Dean, think about it. Think about doing something for you."

"I will."

"Okay, son, when you get here next month you have a present waiting for you." Dean smiled.

"Thanks Bobby."

"Sure kid." The call ended and Dean put the phone back on the cradle softly. College just wasn't for him.


	3. Stanford

Nothing felt better to Dean Winchester than having his head under the hood of a classic car. Currently, he had most of his body underneath a 1964 Pontiac GTO that a customer of Bobby's wanted him to look at and see if he could restore. Dean and Sam had been staying at Bobby's house since the beginning of the school year. Dean had to admit it had been one of the greatest years of his life. He spent his days out in the salvage yard working for Bobby, and his nights looking for something to hunt on the weekends. His dad came in and out and it was like having a real family.

They had celebrated Thanksgiving and there had actually been money for gifts, and a real tree that smelled of pine. Dean had actually received real gifts, and this year he hadn't had to steal gifts for his little brother. He had had the money and enjoyed going out to the busy stores and picking out the right books or the right shirt for his little brother. Dean had even celebrated his birthday and there had been a cake and more gifts. For once in his life he felt as if his life was worth celebrating.

"Son," Bobby started startling Dean out of his thoughts. Dean rolled himself out from underneath the car.

"Yeah?" he asked wiping the sweat from his brow leaving a feint oil streak across his face.

"How is the car comin'?"

"Slow. This guy found probably one of the most out of shape GTOs ever."

"Will you be able to restore it?"

"I think so. Probably be expensive." Bobby chuckled.

"Bad news for him and good news for me." Dean smiled and nodded. "Bout how long?"

"Month tops. That is if I devote all of my time to it."

"Do it." Dean nodded. Bobby pulled a crate up beside the younger man. "What are you going to do when Sam graduates next week?" Plans had been made for this event. Dean's graduation had been skipped in favor of a hunt, but Sammy's was something that was being planned around. They had the whole stupid dorky hat and gown and everything.

"What do you mean?"

"You and your brother going to take off on me and go hunting with that thick headed father of yours?" Dean shrugged.

"I guess. I mean, well, there won't really be a reason to be here anymore. I'll finish up this car for you and then take off I think."

"Dean, if you don't want to take off with your daddy again you know that you are more than welcome to stay here." Dean shrugged and looked down at the tool in his hand. Honestly, he didn't know if it was okay for him to stay here. He wanted to, but then again he had wanted to go to college. His dreams and ambitions always took the back seat to their father's and Sam's. "Boy—"

"What the hell do you mean that you are going to Stanford?" They heard from inside the house. Stanford? Sam had never mentioned anything about Stanford. Was he really going to go? Dean gave Bobby a startled look and struggled to get up and hurried into the room where his red faced father was screaming at his brother about family loyalty and dedication to finding the 'thing that killed your mother.'

"I didn't even know Mom!" The argument was beginning again and Dean's stomach clenched. Their fighting always made Dean nervous.

"Guys." He said trying to get their attention and to stop the fight before it escalated into something that wasn't repairable with a simple 'I'm sorry'. His attempt went unnoticed. Sam had grown considerably in the last couple of months and he was standing eye to eye with their father and he looked more like a man then he had the last time he and his father had fought, and Dean wondered if that meant that Sam was willing to take adult risks. Adult risks that could change everything Dean held dear.

"She was your mother! You have a commitment to this family!"

"Commitment to do what exactly? Give up my life so that you and Dean can find this thing and kill it. Then what Dad? What exactly can I do with my life once this thing has been killed? Hunting isn't exactly a resume builder. I don't want to find this thing! I don't really care!" Dean felt his heart sink into his stomach. John Winchester stepped forward with the lethal grace of a cat.

"What did you say boy?"

"I'm not a child." Sam said in a low threatening voice.

"You are not too old for me to take over my knee."

"Like you ever have. No, you have been my drill sergeant. You were the one to make me drop and give you twenty but you have never been a father to me. You will never take me over your knee for anything."

"Guys stop." Dean said again. And his plea again fell upon deaf ears.

"I am your father."

"In name only."

"You ungrateful little.."

"What do I have to be grateful for?" Sam asked.

'Me.' Dean thought. 'I'm grateful for you.' Dean thought so loudly that he wondered if he had said it out loud.

"I mean you have drug me all over God's green earth…for what? To hunt something, something that we don't even know what it is, so you can avenge Mom's death. I mean come on Dad." Sam emphasized the word Dad. This was getting worse than Dean had ever imagined it could. "I don't want this life. And I have an opportunity to get out of it. And I am taking it. I don't want to end up…." The words "like Dean" hung in the air and Dean swallowed. A lot more shouting ensued and Dean felt tears sting the back of his eyes. He didn't realize it but he had been yelling for them to stop arguing for quite a while.

The only thing Dean Winchester heard was his father yell, "If you are going to go you can stay gone." His mind barely had time to recover from that shock when he heard a shot gun cock and he looked over and saw Bobby with a shot gun pointed at John.

"Your boy is 18 he can do as he pleases and I think you should get your things and get off of my property." John didn't move stunned as Dean was at the turn of his long time friend. "I think now would be an appropriate time." John and Dean moved to their respective things to get them. John because he was told to leave and Dean because he thought that since his own brother felt that he was nothing more than a weapon in his father's arsenal that it meant him as well, because he was no more than a thing.

Dean lost everything that night. He lost his Dad, he lost his brother, he lost his self worth, and he lost a man that he revered like a father. All because his brother wanted to go to school.

Bobby hadn't noticed Dean left until he heard the Impala growl away. He had been so focused on John that he hadn't watched for Dean. He went to the window and caught the tail lights of the Impala as they rounded the corner out of his salvage yard. John wasn't too far behind. Bobby realized belatedly that Dean had taken his command to mean him as well. Closing his eyes he sighed. Dean always misinterpreted people, he should have known that and amended his statement. When he opened his eyes he was confronted with a tall man child who had tears streaming down his face.

"They left me." He said softly. Bobby had no words for the boy. What should have been a joyous moment in his life had just turned into a nightmare.


	4. Speechless

Bobby called Dean's cell phone over and over again over the course of the next week and received no response. Sam went to school, came home, barely ate, barely slept and then did it all again. Bobby spent more time trying to engage the usually gregarious teen in a conversation but was unable to get anything more out of him than a nod or a grunt. The boy missed his brother. He was mad at his father and felt betrayed by the one person who he loved more than anything.

The night before graduation, Sam was sitting on the step overlooking the salvage yard. He was starring right at the car that Dean was going to fix just before Sam and their father had their knock down drag out fight. Bobby came up behind him and handed the 18 year old a beer. Sam gave the barest ghost of a smile and took it and took a sip. Bobby folded his aging body down next to the young man and drank his beer. The two starred off into the west, watching as the spring sun went down just over the horizon. Sam tipped the bottle back and took a long draught and examined the half empty bottle in his hands.

"I never thought Dean would leave me. I thought he would be happy for me. He always said that since I was so smart that I should do something with it. I thought that meant college."

"It did mean college." Bobby said carefully.

"But then, why did he get so upset and leave?"

"I think he was scared."

"Dean isn't scared of anything Bobby, you know that."

"Dean is scared of a lot of things Sam."

"Name one thing that my brother is scared of." Sam challenged.

"He's scared to death of loosing his family."

"But he wouldn't loose me. I will only be in California."

"I don't think that this is what it is really about."

"Then why did he just leave. He left before Dad."

"I think he thought that I included him in your daddy's things."

"What?"

"You've said some pretty harsh things to him in the last couple of years Sammy. There aren't many people that he will take that kind of crap from. But whatever you say, he takes it and keeps it tight against him. So when you called him a mindless witless—"

"He told you that?" Sam asked blushing and wide eyed.

"Who do you think your brother talks about things with?"

"Dad." Sam said matter of factly.

"Your daddy don't listen to a thing your brother says." Bobby said with a gruff laugh. "Every now and then Dean lets something slip. He let that slip not long after it was decided that you two would stay here for the year. It hurt him pretty bad."

"I didn't mean it." Sam said embarrassed.

"I know you didn't, but Dean thinks you did. So he thinks you like him about as well as your daddy. So, when I told your dad to get his things and get out, your pig headed brother must have thought I wanted him gone too." Bobby sighed and drained the last of his beer. I'm sorry Sam. This is really my fault. I should have been more clear."

"Nah." Sam said and choked down the last of the beer. "It's mine." Sam pushed himself up off of the step and turned towards the house. "Thanks Bobby."

&&&&

Sam's graduation day wasn't exactly the happiest day of Sam's life. He gave the speech that he had been asked to give, he had smiled and thrown his hat, spoke with friends and answered questions about his future, his scholarship to Stanford and his excitement to start college. However, he desperately wished that Dean was there right beside him. Dean had always been there for the school things. He had been the one to cheer the loudest and to call his name out during a quiet moment and really embarrass the snot right out of his baby brother. But during the quiet portion of the ceremony there were no cat calls or embarrassing sounds, and when his name was called to go up and receive his diploma there was no "Sammy! Go Sammy!" There was only gentle applause from the seated audience.

Bobby examined the document with the proud eye of a parent, but Sam was too distracted by the absences to notice. When the returned back to the salvage yard Sam went immediately to his room, he tried to ignore the empty second bed, and changed out of his robes and into a fresh pair of jeans and a fresh shirt. He was just about out of the door when he noticed something on his bed. Confused, he went and picked it up. It was a box and it was rather heavy. He opened it and found a wad of cash, a graduation card, and a photo of John and Mary.

Sam, watery eyed, opened the card.

**Sammy,**

**I was there today, at your graduation. Your speech was a little boring but well, I wasn't there to spice it up for you.**

Sam let out a sad laugh.

**Anyway, I want you to know that I'm proud of you. I'm not real good at this chick flick crap, that's your department. **

**Dean**

Sam closed the card and put it inside the box and took out the money. Sam's eyes widened. It was all of the money Dean had made while he was working for Bobby. All $20,000. Sam sank onto the bed speechless.


	5. Smarts

Dean did his best day in and day out to look like loosing his brother and the man that he had always considered a second father didn't bother him. John Winchester, for his part, did precious little in regards to his eldest son. He never once asked him what he felt about his brother going to school, never once asked if he was okay. Instead he drug his eldest all over the place hunting every single evil thing that they came in contact with.

The hunt that they were currently on was a laborious affair. It required a lot of research and without Sam around it was left to Dean to scour the dusty libraries and to find that miniscule piece of information that would be the key to unlocking the mystery surrounding the deaths that were happening in the area. More than once, Dean had fallen asleep reading a dusty volume, and every night he dreamed of being back at Bobby's and working on some old muscle car and when three o'clock rolled around he would go to the local high school and pick up Sammy and he would get to hear about his little brother's day, and he would get to tell Sammy about the cars he had worked on and the people he had met while doing so. He would spend some more time working on the car and Sammy would do homework until Bobby called them for supper.

His dreams were always interrupted by his father throwing food from some grease pit on the table telling him "to get up son, we have work to do" and he would look bleary eyed at his father and remember that his life at Bobby's salvage yard wouldn't ever happen again, and that his dreams were really and truly just memories of a wonderful year. A year filled with family, love, companionship, and normalcy, well as normal as you can get when you and your "uncle" go out hunting things that go bump in the night on the weekends while your baby brother stayed at home working on school projects. He found himself wishing he could be mad at Sam, but he couldn't because in a sense Sam was preserving his normalcy as much as he could, by going to school he was just a regular kid. But Dean couldn't stop the feeling of sadness every time he thought of how Bobby had pretty much asked him and his father to leave.

Dean had seen his brother's graduation, but he knew that he wasn't welcome. He knew that his brother didn't want to see his face. Sam felt too much like Dean was nothing more than an extension of their father. What frightened Dean sometimes was that he thought that his little brother was right.

After Dean ate his breakfast and found that he missed the healthy cereal that Bobby made him eat stating that "any employee of mine that can fix up a muscle car and make it look showroom new needs to eat right." He finished off his egg sandwich from yet another fast food chain and went to take a shower, leaving his notes on the desk where he had been working.

Dean tried to wash away some of the tiredness and loneliness that had filled the hole that Sam's absence had left behind, and once again was unsuccessful. Dean hoped that the only way to fill that hole wasn't with his little brother because if that was the case then he would feel like this for the rest of his life because Dean was almost completely certain that Sam Winchester would never come back to his family.

All of Dean's life his father had said "Stick with your brother; protect your brother; don't let your brother out of your sight; take care of Sammy." And Dean thought he had done a pretty good job of that. He thought that Sammy had loved and liked him enough to at least tell him of his plans to go to school. Sure Sam had mentioned college. Hell he had mentioned college, but he would have like to be apart of the whole 'getting ready for college thing'. He seemed to recall that there was a lot of stuff to do to get into college, at least there had been a lot of paper work when he had applied. He would have liked to be there for Sam, help him out; he thought Sam had trusted him at least that much. But no, Sam had treated Dean like John, and Sam hated their father. So that only left the conclusion that Sam didn't like Dean very much either.

The water in the crappy motel room ran cold and he got out, realizing that the hole hadn't been filled, and that maybe he would go out tonight for a beer and maybe find a girl for the night to relieve some of the loneliness that his brother's absence had left.

Dean had barely wrapped the white motel issue towel around his waist before John burst in the bathroom, unannounced and uninvited and looking decidedly angry.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked holding out a sheet of paper that had definitely seen better days.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked trying to get a good look at the paper that his father was holding.

"You going to desert me too?" he asked, anger in his eyes.

"What? No. Of course not. Where would you get that idea?" Dean asked, water dripping into his eyes. John thrust the paper into his hands. Dean realized it was the letter from the University of South Dakota that he had received all of those years ago and kept in his hunting journal out of vanity and pride.

"I expected more from you Dean. You knew your mother. I thought you loved your mother."

"I do love Mom." Dean said softly.

"If you love your mother so much why were you abandoning the cause? Sammy is a different story. He is someone who would desert his family when the time was right. I knew that about him. But you? I really and truly expected a lot better from you Dean Winchester." Dean didn't hear anything other than the door closing to the motel room and his father's truck pulling out of the lot. Dean vaguely wondered if his father would ever come back, or if he was just going to be one more person to abandon him like an unwanted pet.

He slowly got dressed, he didn't bother to do anything with his hair or even shave, and he decided to take a walk through the little town. Sam had done it numerous times trying to clear his head and he thought that maybe today it would help him.

He had wanted to go to college, he had wanted to become something more than what he was. When he was at Bobby's, he had considered going to a local community college, just to learn something, anything really. Sam always joked that Dean didn't know what a book was, but Dean knew what a book was, and had always felt slightly insulted by the comment.

He ended up sitting on a park bench watching the kids play. He saw himself as a child standing there watching his little brother as he played with kids they didn't know, kids they would never know because they were just passing through town. However, Sam could always make friends. It didn't take much effort for his soulful eyed brother to endear people to him. Dean on the other hand, had to work at it to get people to pay him any mind and then it took months of effort on his part for people to not consider him a jerk. He shook himself out of his thoughts just as someone sat down next to him. He sat up straighter and prepared to leave.

"One of them yours?" she asked. Dean gave her a smile. Not one of his award winning I want you to sleep with me smiles, but a smile of a weary young man who had seen too much and hurt too much.

"No." he shrugged. "Just reminds me of better times." She laughed.

"I understand how that feels. Everything was always so easy when you're young. All it took was some ice cream dripping down your hand to make everything all right." Dean chuckled.

"Yeah. My little brother Sammy, always used to love chasing the ice cream man. That kid could eat ice cream all day."

"How much older are you than him?"

"Four years. I practically raised the kid."

"Wow. Where were your parents?" she blushed and then quickly amended. "I'm sorry it is none of my business. You don't know me."

"Nah, it's okay." Truth of the matter was, Dean needed to talk about Sammy to someone who wouldn't judge and make him feel bad for missing him.

"My dad was kinda checked out after our mom died. So I pretty much gave up everything I ever had for the kid. If I had it to do over I'd do it again. He deserves everything in his life."

"Where is he now?"

"Stanford." Dean said with a hint of a prideful smile.

"That is a very prestigious school."

"Yeah. He got a full ride too."

"He must be really intelligent."

"He can run circles around me. He is so smart he makes MY head hurt." Dean chuckled again.

"You must be pretty smart too."

"Nah. Sammy got all of the brains in the family."

"I highly doubt that. I don't think someone can grow up to be that smart if they didn't have someone smart behind them pushing them onto the right path." Just then a little girl with long red hair tied back in a pony tail with a blue ribbon hanging somewhere in the middle of the tail ran up to the woman that Dean had been talking to.

"Momma can we go get dinner now?" The woman smiled and looked at Dean.

"It was nice talking to you, but duty calls. I'm sure you can understand." Dean smiled and nodded and watched as the pair walked off hand in hand. He sat back against the hard wooden bench and thought about the woman's words. He wanted them to be true…but Sammy's actions and words spoke louder than a strangers. If he was so smart, why couldn't he get his family to recognize it?


	6. Seeds of Hate and Resentment

Sam had arrived at Stanford on a bright cheerful day in August and he sorely wished that his mood was reflective of the bright and cheery day. He had taken the bus to California and then walked to the university. He had no luggage so to speak so it wasn't hard for him to carry by himself. He had his duffel bag full of clothes and the lap top Bobby had purchased for him. After refusing a ride from Bobby, he had decided to buy the needed things once in California.

As he looked around he realized that nervous was a word that barely described his current feeling of unease. He looked up at the towering building, listened to all of the young people with their families laughing and talking, and not for the first time did he fell alone and completely alien in this world. Not only that but he really wished that Dean was there. Dean had been his brother, father, and protector for as long as he could remember and he felt sincerely naked without his big brother at his side. In all of his daydreams of going to college he had never pictured walking into the temple of learning alone. John Winchester may not always have been in the daydream but Dean was there every single time.

In his picture of how this day would go, Dean would be the one to escort him up to his dorm room and make fun of him calling him his "geek brother" and smack him on the back so hard that it stung. (As Sam had gotten older he had tried to pretend like his brother's friendly smacks didn't hurt, he figured that would prove to his brother that he was a man, and the day before Dean had taken off he had successfully managed to keep the discomfort off of his face. Sam wondered in passing if and when he ever saw his brother again if he would have to build up a resistance, a tolerance similar to the way people develop a tolerance to alcohol again to the friendly fraternal abuse.) He envisioned Dean helping him get things in order, well as much as Dean ever helped with truly domestic tasks. And he assumed that Dean would disappear while Sam was putting his clothes in the dresser to go "scope out the hott college babes". Dean's constant prowling for chicks usually got on Sam's nerves so bad he wanted to throttle his older brother, but since he hadn't heard his brother's voice since May, he would have relished his brother's crass humor.

But instead of any of that, Sam took a deep breath and fortified himself. He stood tall and proud and entered the dorm building that he was to live in for the next year and share a room with a guy by the name of Kevin Anderson. Sam really hoped that he was nice, Sam even secretly hoped the guy had a Metallica fetish, he would never ever admit to Dean but he missed his brother's awful taste in music.

Sam walked up the stairs and tried not to let it look like it bothered him that he was the only young adult not escorted by a worried looking mother or a stressed father.

"Now, honey you have to eat while you are here. You can't just have pizza."

"Mom." A guy with broad shoulders, well muscled, obviously an athlete, said to his mother who looked as if she were parting with her most precious possession, and Sam figured that, to her, she probably was. He ducked his head down and let his shaggy hair fall into his eyes, he didn't want to be labeled a cry baby his first day of school. He found his room, and looked inside. Two beds, two dressers, two desks. The room looked similar to many of the hotel rooms that he and Dean had shared over the years. Hotel rooms where Dean had been his protector, confidant, provider. There would be no Dean in this room sleeping with a gun under his pillow ready and waiting to protect him. Sam would have to learn how to protect himself. It made Sam feel sick.

He chose a bed, bed farthest from the door, put his duffel bag on top of it and surveyed his surroundings and made a mental list of the things he needed to go to the nearest Wal-Mart and pick up. He had worked most of the summer keeping books for one of Bobby's friends. He refused to use the money Dean had given him. After sitting on his bed and starring at the wad of bills he decided to put it into a savings account and keep it there until he ABSOLUTELY had to use it.

Several times over the summer he had attempted to call his brother to thank him for the money. But every time his finger went to push the last digit he had stopped, and when he finally pushed that last button he found that his brother's cell number was out of service and there was no forwarding number. His heart had stung when he realized that he had no way of contacting his brother. It was official; all of the ties that had connected him to his family had been severed. He was alone—an orphan of sorts and ever since he had heard the electronic voice say that the caller the number he had dialed had been disconnected, he had walked around with a hole in his chest that ached more than any wound inflicted by the parade of monsters that had hurt him while he had hunted.

He had finally managed to get his meager belongings out of his bag and stash the duffel under the bed. He was just putting the picture of his mom and dad on the dresser when he heard voices in the hallway growing louder and louder and then finally coming into his room. There stood the boy who he assumed was Kevin, and his mother, father, two girls who Sam assumed to be sisters, and three boys he assumed were brothers. Sam swallowed hard.

"You Sam?" the eldest boy that Sam had assumed was Kevin asked. His mother smacked him on the head and Sam held in a laugh.

"Where are your manners boy?" She extended her hand and Sam shook it.

"I'm Sam Winchester," he said. The woman gave him a warm, motherly smile.

"Kevin." The kid who had spoke earlier said and extended his hand. Sam shook it. Introductions to Kevin's family was next and after that the women of the family began going at Kevin's side of the room, making the bed with fresh linins, and unpacking his clothes into the dresser, and his father and brothers set up the television, DVD player, and computer up on Kevin's side of the room. Sam excused himself and headed to the closest Wal-Mart and picked up bedding for himself. He couldn't stand there and watch a happy family tuck their eldest son into college. A son, they were no doubt, very proud of. A son that they would call and give them their new cell phone numbers when they changed them, if they ever had to change them. Kevin would have a mother that would tut over him and send him care packages and care about his grades. Kevin would never want for anything physically or spiritually. He would never wish that his brother was there to help him get arranged into his dorm room. He wasn't kicked out of the family by his father for getting a full ride to Stanford. Kevin was normal and came from normal people, he would never be worried about the things under the bed or the things that go bump in the night.

The seed of hate and resentment that had always rested in the pit of Sam's stomach began to grow. It was fed with the best kind of fertilizer, jealousy, anger, and shame. There he was, in the middle of the bath section of Wal-Mart, with happy NORMAL people walking around him when Sam resolved that he would not miss his brother. He would not long to have Dean's familiar presence at his back, he would not hope for a phone call from the one person in his life he thought he could count on. He would assimilate into this normal world and never look back. Dean didn't want him and Sam most certainly didn't want him.

Sam went that afternoon to the bank and cleaned out the account and sent it to one of his brother's mail drops in Idaho. He didn't want it.


	7. Need

Dean sat alone in his motel room trying, unsuccessfully, to pull his shirt away from the open wound on his stomach. The stupid poltergeist had thrown a pocket knife at him and Dean hadn't been quick enough on the up take to see it coming for him and he ended up with the small knife plunged into his stomach. John had pulled the knife out without too much ceremony,(which meant that he jerked the knife out without so much as a warning) asked if he could keep going and Dean had said that he could, despite the fact that he was bleeding and his stomach felt like it was on fire. And Dean did fight valiantly, almost as if his gut wasn't aching with every single movement, until the thing was banished back to wherever evil things like poltergeists came from.

Now he was alone in his motel room, his father had moved on to their next hunt in Oregon, and he would catch up with him tomorrow. John had forbade him to go in his present condition, saying that he would be more of a liability to him than an asset and he needed him one hundred percent if he was going to be at his back hunting with him. All of which was true, but it didn't mean that Dean had to like being left alone in a motel room to patch up his own body. Dean understood that his father was preoccupied with Sam. He knew that John Winchester felt guilty for telling his son to go and stay gone and that was why he was so distant with Dean. 

Dean closed his eyes and took a breath and ripped the shirt away from the wound. "God!" he exclaimed as he pulled the shirt and the beginnings of a scab away from his stomach. Who ever said that ripping a band-aid off quickly was less painful was a complete and utter moron. The idiot probably never had a cut bigger than a paper cut his whole life. Searing pain as the material and scab were freed from his body flooded his stomach and rode his body high. He clenched his teeth and the muscle in his jaw worked for a moment before he finally let out the breath he had been holding and opened his eyes. His green eyes were bright and tears dribbled down his face.

"That hurt like a son of a bitch." He grumbled. He pulled out the first aid kit and cleaned the wound and realized sadly that it needed stitches. He looked up at the bathroom for a second and almost called out to Sammy. He was always good with a needle and thread. But the name died on his lips as he realized that his baby brother was no where near here and he wouldn't be the one stitching up his stomach, he would. The idea of threading a needle and pushing it through his flesh and physically sewing his flesh back together like a ripped sock most certainly did not appeal to Dean. As a matter of fact the thought made him a little green around the gills. 

"I'm gonna need to be mighty drunk for this, I'm afraid." He said to the empty air. Then he thought about what he had just said. There was no way in the world that he could sew up this would with alcohol in his system. Something told him that that wouldn't be a particularly smart thing to do. He might accidentally sew his navel shut instead of the wound. Now that would be a sight. So, he ended up sewing up the battered flesh with nothing other than a pencil in between his teeth to keep him from breaking them to get him through the pain. 

Ministrations complete he looked down and thought for a moment that he didn't do a half bad job one handed, and sober; he was even a little proud of himself. However, it wasn't exactly plastic surgeon perfect and he knew from experience that it would probably leave one hell of a scar. Welp, just one more scar to add to the ever growing collection. His body had become a supernatural road map. He could point to just about any spot on his torso or arms and tell you the type of supernatural creature, how it had done it and how to banish it, just by the scars on his body. He didn't think about the scars too much unless there was a woman involved. Sex meant that the lights were firmly off. No matter how beautiful the woman. He didn't want to be asked how he got them, because to this day he couldn't come up with a reasonable lie that most normal people would accept, and in all honesty he was a little embarrassed. 

One he had thought about the scars and the fact that he was completely alone, he started to miss his brother. Missed the conversation they usually had while he was stitching Dean up. The conversation that started out "Dean you are not indestructible and I wish that you would quit acting like you are." He tried not to miss Sammy so much. He tried to think of his brother as happy and tucked in all safe at Stanford. Sam belonged in the halls of academia and he deserved to be there, he didn't need to be in one more dingy motel room cleaning and sewing up his brother. Those long fingers needed to be flipping the pages of an old text, researching, not things that go bump in the night, but ways of helping people, fighting for them and protecting their families and bringing justice to those families which had been irrevocably damaged by some malicious man or woman wielding a knife, gun, or other very human methods of destruction. His fingers were much better suited for that work than that work of sewing up broken flesh in a run down motel room in the middle of nowhere. 

Most of the time since Sam had left, he was okay with his brother's choices and thought they were the best ones he could have made for himself. However, times like right now, he felt just a little bit selfish and wished that Sammy was sitting here talking to him, checking on him and complaining about their father. Yes. Dean had even grown to miss the constant complaining Sam did in regards to his father. It was oddly normal and comforting. But, in the back of Dean's mind he knew that his brother would never be back to do this sort of stuff for him. On some level he knew that his brother would never be back period. 

Dean finished up his mending and got himself arranged on the bed as comfortably as he could with a torn up gut, and let all of the weariness out of his body with one simple exhalation of breath. He pulled the covers up, put an arm over his eyes and forced himself into sleep.

_It was the same dream. The dream he had been having for weeks now. Dean got out of the Impala in front of a two story house, white trimmed in a sunny yellow, flowers planted along the side of the drive, perfectly manicured trees in the yard. A red bicycle sitting next to the front door and the two car garage open to reveal the back end of a typical SUV, and the back of a more sensible sedan. _

_Dean walked up the pristine drive and knocked on the door, his hands a mass of scars. The door opened and a young girl around 10 years old, with blonde hair tied in a pony tail, wearing a pink shirt answered. _

"_Who are you?" she would ask._

"_I'm your Uncle Dean." he would say with a smile._

"_Daddy said Uncle Dean was dead." His heart would break and he would try to force himself out of the dream at that point and he couldn't. This was the point of the dream in which he was both outside his body and in. He watched his own face fall when his niece said that her father had told her he was dead. Then Sam came to the door tall, handsome, in a suit and tie that was just loosened at the neck. His hazel eyes would harden on his brother._

"_Mary, go on to the kitchen table. You mommy has your dinner ready." The little girl would smile up at her father in adoration and nod and do as she was told. Sam would exit the door and close it firmly behind him. No invitation inside for Dean._

"_What do you want Dean?"_

"_You told her I was dead?"_

"_Do you need money?"_

"_You told my niece that I was dead?"_

"_Dean, I don't have time for this. What do you want?" He asked exasperatedly and crossed his arms over his chest._

"_I don't want anything. I just wanted to check in on you. Say hello." He stumbled. _

"_I don't want you around here Dean. I don't need you…"_

Every night his mind forced him to go through the whole dream and hear his brother say that he didn't need him. Dean hated it. He woke up startled, sad, and hurt. It wasn't exactly a monster chasing you hell bent on killing you dream that left you drenched in sweat and panting, but for Dean Winchester it was just as startling and hurtful. 

He decided that there was no point in trying to sleep again, the dream always wound him up so bad that no matter how exhausted he was he was never able to go back to sleep, so he go up took care of his stomach, showered, and dressed and decided to run a few errands before he left the state. After buying a new cell phone, the last one had been crushed by a monster of the week; he went to his mail drop hoping that there would be a credit card in there because the one he was currently using was just about out of credit. Then he decided he would call Sam, he had given him plenty of time to get adjusted to his new environment and maybe, just maybe he wasn't still mad ad his brother. 

There were several envelopes waiting for him at his mail drop, one was the credit card he had been hoping for and the other was a letter that was simply addressed to him. No return address. However, no return address was needed; Dean would know his brother's handwriting anywhere. A smile spread across his face and he hurried into the Impala, the doors squeaking behind him. He threw the other mail down on the passenger's side of the car and tore into the envelope. He figured that Sam wrote him a letter because he had come to find out that Dean's cell had been damaged. Dean was excited at the prospect. He could already imagine a thousand things that Sammy would tell him. Hopefully, Sammy would even have some news about a girl. He pulled out the sheet of paper, or what he thought was a sheet of paper, and found that it was a cashier's check for 20,000. It wasn't a letter telling him how school was, about the people he had met, or a girl he was interested. No. It was the money he had given Sam for graduation. Sam had returned the money. His eyes tingled and his face went numb as he looked at the check. Dean's whole body sagged against the seat and he closed his eyes. His nightmare had come true: Sam didn't need him anymore.


	8. Dean Made Sure

Sam spent a lot of the first couple of weeks at Stanford confused, lost, homesick, and missing his brother more than he would ever tell anyone

Sam spent a lot of the first couple of weeks at Stanford confused, lost, homesick, and missing his brother more than he would ever tell anyone. Being normal was a lot more work than he ever anticipated. There was getting a real job, finding his classes, going to his classes, finding time to go to the library, and then there was the whole thing about making friends. Sam had spent a lifetime trying to blend in with any place he came in contact with. Blend in and get out. That had been his whole life. But now, he was going to be staying here at least four years and he couldn't just up and leave so if he made a mistake or made a complete ass out of himself or even if he made enemies he had to stay here and fight them. There would be no up and running to another unnamed city in the middle of nowhere. There was no Dean to fight the bullies for him, even though Sam knew full well that he was too old to rely on his big brother to fight his battles for him.

Sam got a job at a local coffee shop. He only worked twelve hours a week but it paid for the little things that the full ride didn't cover. There were moments when he really wished that he had kept his brother's money; he really wished he had kept something of his brother in general. He missed him so much he couldn't stand it. And he knew that if Dean had received the check that he would be so mad he wouldn't want to look at Sam, and Sam couldn't blame him. The decision had been rash and impulsive. Now that he thought on it, his brother probably didn't pick up the phone because his phone had been damaged during a hunt. How often had that happened during a hunt? Dean wasn't exactly someone who was concerned with material possessions. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was never the one who had to pay for them. That made Sam smirk as he was wiping down a table. Sam's smile quickly faded when he thought about how hurt his brother probably was right now, and there was no way he could suck up his pride and call him and apologize. One day he would be the bigger man and do that, but right now, he just couldn't.

The bell over the door tinkled and one of his fellow co-workers, Jessica Moore, strolled in.

"Hey Sam." She said sweetly as she went to the back to get her apron. Jessica could tell him that dog shit tasted good and it would still sound sweet coming from her mouth. He had gone on dates before. He had had crushes on girls before, but there was something about her that made him nervous.

"Hey Jess." He said softly back wishing that he sounded more like the almost nineteen year old he was and not some awkward little boy.

It didn't take long for the coffee shop to get crowded. Sam usually worked Saturday nights, and it was usually busy, but tonight he was filling in for a co worker that wanted to go to a party on campus, and he was surprised to find that the coffee shop was busier on a Friday night than on a Saturday night. It seemed that just after he said hello to Jessica the store filled to the brim with people. She was working the counter and he was doing his best to bus the tables and keep the area behind the counter clean.

He had hardly noticed when the shift manager had closed and locked the doors. Sam's job didn't seem to end on busy nights, there were so many dishes that needed washed and so many things that needed cleaning that he lost track of time. It didn't hurt any that he was still used to staying up all night, that was something he hadn't anticipated about normal life—daytime life.

"Sam?" Jessica startled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"You okay today?"

"Why do you ask?" She pulled on gloves and sank her hands into the water next to him. She shrugged.

"I don't know. I just get the feeling that you are off tonight. It took you longer than normal to get the tables clean, and you've been back here forever getting these dishes done."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be taking forever."

"No. Not complaining. Just wondering if everything is okay." He wanted to lie and tell her that everything was fine. "You homesick? I am. I miss my family. I know they don't live far from here, but still, I just feel all alone in the world. My sister went to her first homecoming tonight and I wasn't there to help her with her hair or her make-up. I wanted to be. She says she understands, but if I were her, I don't think I would be okay with my older sister not making the trip home to see me off to homecoming." She sighed.

"I'm sure she understands." Sam said. "Siblings understand."

"You have a sister?"

"Brother." He said quickly.

"Older or younger?"

"Four years older."

"Close?"

"Was."

"What happened?" Sam was quiet. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Complicated really. But he sided with my dad. Wasn't happy I left the family business. I made him really mad." She looked at him and cocked her head to one side.

"You spoken to him since you've been here?"

"Nope." He scrubbed harder at the spot on the cup he was cleaning.

"Why not?"

"He's mad at me."

"You mean you are too stubborn to call him and see how he is." She said in a matter of fact tone that told him she understood stubbornness intimately.

"Yeah something like that." Sam said grinning despite himself.

"But you two were close."

"Yeah."

"You don't want to loose that Sam."

"No. I don't. But if it means that I can't stay here and get the life I want, then I have to sacrifice."

"You don't sacrifice relationships."

"He sacrificed it first."

"Maybe he is letting you think he is mad so you will stay here."

"What?"

"Well, if you guys are as close as I'm gathering, then maybe he knows that if he called or wrote or something that you would fee guilty or so homesick that you would go home. Maybe he is doing the only thing he knows to keep you from abandoning your dream." Sam thought about that comment. Dean would sacrifice something that he held dear if it meant that Sam got what he wanted. Sam hadn't thought about that.

"Maybe you're right."

"You'll find that I'm right a lot more often than I'm wrong." That made Sam laugh.

"So what is your sister's name?"

"Olivia. She is smart and sweet and sassy. She is a free spirit of sorts. She loves people and she loves life. There simply isn't any other way to put it. She just loves life." Jessica gave a short sad laugh and continued. "She is this pretty little thing that doesn't know how pretty she is. She was so nervous about going to homecoming tonight. She's called every single night this week. I've been sent pictures over the internet showing me dresses, and what she looks like wearing them. It has been so funny. Last weekend when I was able to go home I had to help her pick out shoes and gave her a pair of my earrings." Jessica shrugged. "I just wish I could have been there tonight. But I had a lecture class that didn't end until 7 and then I had to be here." She tried to smile but the smile just wasn't there. She shrugged and shook her head and turned to Sam and said: "Tell me about your brother."

"Ahhh. I don't know." Sam shrugged and rinsed off the dishes.

"Oh come on. No one knows anything about you."

"People talk about me?"

"There aren't too many people who have to duck through doorways in the dorms. Plus there aren't that many hott guys either. You fit the bill in more than one respect." Sam burst out laughing.

"Wow. Girls do talk about guys."

"And their asses. Can't forget the ass." She said with a laugh. "Come on. Tell me about your brother."

"Not much to tell really." He said with a shrug. "I've followed him around ever since I can remember. He never pushed me away. He could have a friend over and he would make sure that I was there. Make sure that I felt like I belonged even though I was four years younger. His idea of a good Friday night is renting a really bad horror flick and sitting on the couch and watching it with me. He takes his work seriously. He takes his family seriously." Sam snorted. "I haven't heard classic mullet rock since I got here. And I used to complain about it all of the time. That's all he plays in his car. That's it. And now, here I am, listening to the music I like and I'm thinking about how much I miss AC/DC. Dean would love that."

"Dean?" she said with a smile. "There we go. I knew this brother had a name."

"Yeah. Dean."

"You really should call him."

"Nah. I'm fine." The last dish washed and the last dish rinsed. They stopped and looked at each other. They had been enjoying their conversation.

"You want to take a walk?" She asked.

"Sure." Sam noted that it was past the witching hour and if anything was to come after her, he could protect her. Dean had made sure of that.


	9. Shut Up Winchester

**Author's Note: This particular chapter didn't come out exactly as planned. Please review and let me know what you think!**

Dean had partaken in his fair share of suffering in his lifetime. He had suffered the loss of his mother, suffered the fear of being too young and taking care of someone younger than he, suffered pain from wounds, suffered the loss of his brother, and now loneliness was his to suffer alone and in silence. His father didn't talk much anymore, and what he did say usually came in the form of orders. Orders that left him taking his car and going in a separate direction from his father and hunting something evil—alone.

Dean had decided shortly after his first solo hunt that it wasn't necessarily a good idea to do this job alone. He wasn't sure how his father had done it alone for so many years. Dena had hunted with his father, Bobby, and Sam and that had always made things much easier much safer. But now there was no one to hunt with. No one to watch his back, and that was precisely why he was laying on the ground in the middle of the woods, alone, scared and in severe pain. He knew his leg was broken in at least one place. Possibly more.

He dug into his pocket, trying to ignore the pain in his hands as the abrasive denim scratched along the abraded palm, and retrieved his cell phone. He dialed his father and got only voice mail.

"Damn it!" he said frustrated. Not for the first time did he wish Sam was there to help. He looked at the phone by moonlight going through his contacts trying to find the one for Caleb and he scrolled across "Sam" He hesitated for a moment and then forced himself to call Caleb.

"Caleb?" he said with a wince.

"Dean?"

"Yeah." His voice was gruff even to his own ears.

"You okay?"

A huff escaped him and he sighed. "No. I need some help. My leg is broken, I think I've cracked some ribs, and well, I can't get up to get to my car and drive." He said sadly. He hated admitting any kind of weakness and this most certainly was weakness. He had been stupid and let the thing get the drop on him and now someone was going to have to be inconvenienced in order to get him.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"Montana."

"Dean, I'm like three days travel away."

"I know. But you were the only one that I could call." Dean said weakly. He grunted in pain. The pain was what had made him admit that. Yes, that was his story and he was most certainly going to stick with that. Caleb, on his hand was stunned by the admission. Where was John? Why had he left his son to fend for himself with no one to help him? Caleb had known Dean since he was a teenager and was always impressed by his skills and cunning. He had grown to like the kid, and he found that he was actually rather mad at John for leaving his son out alone and in his current predicament.

"Look, I know someone who can come get you. She's knows about stuff. She and her grandmother…"

"Oh. Caleb. Forget it. I can get to the car. I'll be fine." Caleb closed his eyes tightly. He could tell that Dean now felt like he was being a burden. Caleb had learned when he had first met Dean that he would rather sleep outside than take someone's bed from them, even if he did have broken ribs and a concussion. So he couldn't say he wasn't entirely surprised at Dean's comment.

"Shut up Winchester. She'll be there in an hour or two." Caleb got Dean's location after much cajoling and threatening and hung up with the stubborn ass Winchester boy.

Dean sighed and he dropped his cell phone on the grass next to him. He put his arm over his eyes and willed the tears to go away. He was so humiliated that he was about to be rescued by a girl, so humiliated that he wanted to cry, and that made him even more humiliated that he almost wished he were unconscious right now.

Dean lay in the grass and wished that he had been as brave as Sam and gone to college, and made something out of himself. Because if he had, it wouldn't hurt so much right now that people weren't around to help him, he would have his own friends, and not friends borrowed from his father. He wished that he was normal and that there would be no reason for him to be lying on the grass in the middle of Montana waiting for someone he didn't know to show up and help him out. He could be at the University of South Dakota; they had offered him a place at their university and the money to go. He should have taken it. Then maybe it wouldn't have bothered him quite so much when his brother went.

Dean sighed and tried to move and he was greeted with sirens of pain blaring throughout his body and he stupidly pounded his fists into the ground beside him which only elicited more pain from his already damaged body.

Tears flowed freely now, his body hurt, his feelings were hurt, and most of all his soul hurt. Everything that had mattered to him his entire life wasn't there anymore. Sammy, Dad. Both of them had just left him. Left him to rot and die alone—unwanted. He had been slowly and steadily building a wall around his heart and feelings, he didn't need them anymore. There wasn't anyone to care for and to be concerned with. Sammy had seen to that when he had sent back the money, and Bobby had made it clear when he told him to get out along with John. He wished more than anything right now that he had built and fortified those walls much sooner. He needed them right this second to keep him from crying and from feeling this horrible self loathing and self hatred.

He heard a car engine come near, and he heard voices soft in the distance. Dean hadn't realized that he had been over an hour since he had spoken with Caleb. Briefly, he wondered if he had passed out. Tears were still running down his face and he wiped them roughly with the back of his hand, refusing to allow any girl to see him cry. He began to pull himself up into a sitting position when he saw her. She came through the trees and hurried to his side.

"Dean?" she asked gently.

"Yes." He groaned.

"I'm Saffy." Her voice was soft and gentle. It was almost musical. "Caleb called me. He told me you are a stubborn son of a bitch." Dean smiled slightly at the dichotomy of the words and the voice.

"Nice to meet you Saffy."

"Can you stand?"

"With some help." He admitted. She nodded and she reached around and helped him up and supported half of his weight. Dean had to admit that she was pretty strong for a girl. She wasn't all that big either and he most certainly wasn't light. She took him to her car and helped him inside. "My car." He said tiredly.

"Give me the keys and my grandma will drive it back with us, if that's okay." If Dean's leg hadn't been throbbing in time with his heart beat and his ribs not aching with every single breath he took he might have said something like 'hell no it's not okay.' But because he hurt so badly and he knew that these two people were going to be the only ones to help him, he simply gave a curt nod and handed her the keys.

The ride to the house was surprisingly quiet. Saffy didn't make the silence awkward. It just simply was. Every now and then she would look back in the mirror and ask if he was okay.

Saffy tried to look back at her charge without his knowledge. Caleb had called her and told her that a friend of his, a hunter, was in desperate need of help and she had readily agreed to go out and pick him up. Caleb warned her that he could be brash and he wasn't real fond of being weak and he was fairly certain that being helped by a girl was going to be top ranking on his list of most humiliating moments in his life. When she had related the information to her grandmother, she had sighed and mumbled something about all hunters being chauvinist pigs.

Looking back at him again she realized that he was rather handsome under all of the blood and grime. She was even further amazed that he was her age. The combination of beauty and age her nervous and her hands tighten on the steering wheel that much harder. She reminded herself that he was just another hunter in need of help, and she was just someone that could provide said help.

"We're here." She said as she pulled into the circular drive. Dean heard the rumble of the Impala come to a halt behind Saffy's car. She helped him get out of the car and he winced with each and every movement. Saffy's grandmother, who was considerably younger than he figured a grandmother to be, got on his other side and began helping him and her granddaughter into the house.

"Woah." He said when he got sight of the house. "This is a nice place." He said out loud. He suddenly didn't want to enter this house. This was a home, and it was a nice home. It was definitely not somewhere he belonged.

"It was my parents." She said simply and opened the door. They walked him into the beautifully decorated foyer.

"Let's take him in the room with the television. He'll be in bed for a couple of days at least." The grandmother had said. The two women heaved Dean's heavily muscled frame farther into the darkened house and into a bedroom off of the living room. Saffy held his weight against her as her grandmother pulled the covers back and turned on the dim light. She helped Saffy lay him on the bed. Dean looked up at the girl that had hauled his heavy ass through the forest and into the house and onto this super comfy bed and noted that her face was a mass of angry scars. She saw him starring and she flinched back. She ducked her head and began helping her grandmother getting his shoes off.

"Now sweetie, I'm a doctor." Saffy's grandmother said. "I'm going to check your leg. But that is going to require me to get your pants off. Dean nodded.

"I'll go fix you something to eat." Saffy said with a small smile and ducked out of the room.

Dean watched as Saffy's grandmother, who finally informed him that her name was Ally, as she probed his swollen leg and then proceeded to cluck over it and then put it in a splint and wrap it very tightly. After looking at his ribs, deciding they were in fact broken, she bound them as tight as he could stand it and then went to attending to the wounds on his hands and face.

"When I was young, I dated this really well to do guy. Well, his parents were really well off." She started. "He came to pick me up for our first date in that car of yours. Well not yours, but it was the same make and model. Driving that sure brought back memories." She said with a smile.

"She's been good to me." Dean said. "Hasn't ever failed me. She is a fine piece of art."

"That she is." Ally said and finished washing the last of the blood off of his face. "How long have you had her?" she asked as she packed the medical supplies back into their appropriate boxes.

"I've had her since I was 18. My dad gave her to me."

"You can't be more than 18." She smiled.

Dean returned her smile with a smirk of his own. "Turn 23 in two months ma'am."

"Saffy is getting ready to turn 25." As if on cue Saffy knocked on the door.

"He's decent." Saffy entered. Dean was impressed that she hadn't take her long hair out of the tail that it had been when she had turned on the lights and he had seen the full extent of the scarring on her face. In fact, it looked as if she had redone it and pulled it back tighter than she had before. She gave him a smile and set a tray next to him and helped him into a comfortable sitting position and put pillows behind his back.

"You ladies really didn't have to go to all of this trouble for me. I promise I'll be out of your hair in a day or so." Saffy rolled big brown eyes and put the tray on his lap.

"You need to stay here until that leg is better." Ally said and touched his shoulder. "You can't run on broken leg. The monsters will eat you." Dean gave a solemn nod.

"Want company while you eat or the remote?" Saffy asked standing just a little distance away from him. Dean thought about the question for a moment. He used to sit with Sam and eat. They hadn't ever had sit down family meals in the traditional sense, but even when Sam was little he made an effort to sit down somewhere and eat together. Dean missed having a conversation while he ate his meals. When he hunted with his dad meals were a perfunctory affair. They ate, no conversation, and often they had research spread around, sometimes they didn't even eat at the same time. Or he ate alone. Dad on his own separate hunt and Dean would grab a burger out and then sit down in front of the television and turn it on to hear the sounds of life, and eat by himself. So, her offer was tempting. He wanted her to sit with him and talk. But wouldn't it be awkward? She didn't know him. She probably wouldn't remember him in a months time.

"Stay." He said before his mind could talk him out of it. Saffy smiled and climbed into the recliner that was in the corner closest to the bed. She pulled her legs up underneath her and got situated.

"So, you are a Winchester huh?" He looked at her surprised as he took a bite out of the sandwich.

"Dean Winchester yeah. Is that important?" He asked suspiciously.

"Just hear a lot about you is all. Hunters talk about how efficient you and your family are."

"Just me and my dad now." He said without thinking.

"I thought you had a brother."

"He left. Went away to school."

"Really? Not happy about that?" she asked confused.

"I'm proud as all hell of him." Dean said and spooned the soup into his mouth. "Just miss him is all."

"Doesn't he call?"

"No." he said.

"Why?" Dean hesitated. "I'm sorry." She said turning red. "That's none of my business." She suddenly found the string on her hoodie incredibly fascinating. Dean shrugged

"Because he doesn't need me anymore. Doesn't need this life anymore." Dean couldn't believe how honest he was being. What had that old bat put in that pill she had given him? A truth serum?

Saffy had nothing to say about that. What could she say? She had never met the other Winchester. Maybe he really felt that way; maybe Dean just grossly misinterpreted his brother. She couldn't imagine leaving a sibling and never calling. They were blood. Shouldn't that mean more than pride? More than school? More than anything?

"Practically raised the kid." Dean said in kind of a whisper. "Did everything for him. And he just sent me back the money I gave him for graduation. Guess he's too good for blue collar earned money now. Only wants money earned from places that need fancy degrees." Dean said harshly and with a good dose of bitterness thrown in for good measure. "I doubt I'll ever see him again." He said after a moment's quiet. Dean hadn't meant to admit the last part; he hadn't really even allowed himself to admit it to himself. He took a bite of his sandwich and rested his head against the elegantly carved headboard. "What about you? Siblings?"

"No." she said simply in a dead voice.

"What happened to your face?" he asked before thinking realizing that the question didn't connect with his previous one and that the question was rude and uncalled for. He may not have a college education but he had been taught his manners. "I'm sorry. That was out of line." She gave him a small grin.

"No. That's okay." She said sadly. "At least you ask and don't just pretend not to be looking." She wrapped her arms around her knees. "When I was six, there was this fire. It happened in my sister's room. Mom just burnt up, dad went in to try to help but he just got caught in the fire and I almost had my little sister in my arms when there was a big explosion of fire. I got out. Don't know how. Just escaped. I woke up and there were fire fighters everywhere. It was all noisy and it was just a…blur." Pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts she continued, "The rest of my family died." She picked at her pants not looking at Dean.

"That's how my mom died too." His voice was soft and hesitant. Her head snapped up and she starred at him. His green eyes were fixed on a far away day. "My dad put my little brother in my arms and told me to run and I ran like hell. He's been my responsibility ever since." She nodded.

"That's why it is so hard for him not to be here with you isn't it?" Dean nodded.

The two connected that night over similar past tragedies. They understood each other. Each had battle scars, some visible and some not so visible. He enjoyed her warmth and caring, and she enjoyed his bluntness and honesty. They spent countless hours together talking, laughing and watching television. But, all of the laugher and fun faded once his leg and ribs had healed. He was forced to get back on the road and do his job. His father wanted him to meet up with him in Oregon and he was obligated to go. For the first time in his life he wished that he healed slower.

She hugged him before he got into the car. "Don't forget to call me." She whispered. He nodded. He didn't trust his voice enough to speak. Getting in the car, he avoided her eyes, driving away he did is best not to look back. He had a friend in her and if he looked he would want to stay, and he couldn't do that. He'd given up Sammy for hunting and he wasn't about to let that sacrifice be in vain.


	10. Merry Christmas

"Hey Bobby

"Hey Bobby." Sam said when he saw Bobby waiting for him outside of the bus station. Stanford required all of the residents to leave campus for winter break and the only place that Sam felt he could go was to Bobby's. Bobby had called him periodically and checked up on him as if he were a real relative. It had given Sam a sense of stability and a connection to the hunting world. It was a way to keep tabs on his father and brother and make sure that they hadn't died or been seriously injured. Bobby heard things, and he would hear if the Winchesters were hurt or dead.

"Hey there Sam." Bobby greeted and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "How was the trip?"

"Long." He said with a smile. Sam had been on the road for countless hours in his life. Constantly moving from one place to another, constantly changing locations. He should have been used to long trips across the vast continental United States, but either staying stationary for so long had ruined him or the fact that Dean hadn't been sitting to his left making jokes, making him listen to crappy classic rock, talking about a hunt, or making him play ridiculous eye spy games had made the trip virtually unbearable.

Bobby simply nodded and the two walked towards Bobby's truck. Sam put his things inside and got in. "You heard from Dean?" Sam asked as they headed towards Bobby's house.

"No. Sorry son. I've tried calling him. I know that your daddy is on a hunt. I would assume that he is with him. But the grape vine says that Dean is starting to hunt alone." Sam's eyes turned sharply in Bobby's direction.

"Alone?"

"Apparently. One of my contacts caught him alone up in northern Montana alone." Bobby debated telling Sam that his brother had been severely injured and that it had taken six weeks for him to heal and be able to leave under his own steam again. The worried look in Sam's eyes solidified his decision not to tell the younger man what his brother had been up to.

Sam could tell that Bobby was leaving out an important detail from this story. Sam reassured himself that Bobby would tell him if something like his brother being crippled or dead had befallen his brother. Instead of pressing the issue he turned and watched out of the window. "If he's dumb enough to leave Dad and go on his own hunts, then he needs to be prepared for the consequences." He said aloud allowing the bitterness to flow through is words.

Bobby inwardly sighed. Sam felt guilty. It was written all over the boys face and it was written into his posture. Sam looked bone weary. The few times he had spoken to the boy while he was at school, he had detected a note of tiredness in his voice. He had chalked it up to him working hard on his studies, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Yeah. Fine." Sam said with a sigh. That was a lie that didn't take a skilled hunter to suss out. Sam was anything but fine. Every single time Bobby called Sam asked if he had heard from Dean and when he said no, his voice hardened and he said some snide comment about how stupid his brother was, but Bobby knew that was just a cover for Sam's wounded feelings. Winchester pride and stubbornness ought to be outlawed.

Bobby tried for the first couple of days to get Sam to open up and to talk. He had suggested that they buy a Christmas tree and do what they did last year. The previous Christmas had been filled with so much love and warmth. Bobby hadn't had a Christmas like that since his wife had died. Nothing was better than watching Sam open the gift that Dean had spent painstaking hours locating, or watching Dean open the gift that Sam had spent so much time working on. Bobby had received gifts as well, but the greatest of all was having the two Winchester boys with him. It felt like they were his sons. There were times when Bobby wished he could club John Winchester over the head with a mallet for the way he neglected his children. He knew that John loved his kids. Knew that will all of his being, but John missed the little things, like watching Sam and Dean enjoy life and each other. The two had been so closely bound that it was difficult to find where one began and the other left off. Now, looking at Sam, he could tell, and that was hard. Sam seemed to be missing a chunk of himself. Bobby could only imagine that Dean felt the same way or worse.

Bobby was more than a little worried about the elder Winchester brother. He had kept track of Dean when he was with Saffy and her grandmother. As a matter of fact he got regular reports and was more than pleased that he and Saffy hit it off and were friends. But it worried him that Dean was spending more and more time alone. Dean wasn't someone who should spend significant chunks of time alone. He was a trained warrior, but he was also a trained care taker. Bobby was afraid that if he didn't have anyone to care for he would allow his heart to harden to everyone including himself and end up dying alone at the hands of something evil. Dean deserved more that that. However, there wasn't any convincing Dean to contact his little brother, and he had made no effort to give him or Sam his new phone number.

The days winded down and Christmas was just a couple hours away. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table with his text books scattered around him, he wasn't paying attention to them. He couldn't tell you what he had read. He couldn't tell you what book was open in front of him. Bobby, was sitting opposite him going over papers for the salvage yard.

"You know…" Sam started. Bobby looked up and noted that Sam wasn't exactly looking at him. He was looking somewhere else, possibly an elsewhere that wasn't even in the current year. "I gave that amulet to Dean instead of Dad, because, Dean was always straight with me. He was honest when Dad wasn't. I realized that night that Dean was closer to my father than my Dad was." Sam paused. "Last Christmas was so cool. Watching Dean try to get the tree up, string the lights, that was so funny. It was an actual Christmas. Now, here I am, without him. Do you think he's okay?"

"I think he's okay."

"Do you think he misses me?"

"I think he does."

"Why doesn't he call?"

"Probably doesn't think you want him to."

"Why?"

"You said that you returned all of that money."

"Yeah."

"Well, dumb ass. You might as well have sent a note that said 'Hey Dean! I don't want you around anymore.' Because that money was his way of trying to take care of you. Keep you fed and clothed. You know the stuff he always did for you." Sam looked back down at his text book.

"I was angry."

"I know you were. But that really wasn't an excuse."

"He left me!"

"No. You left him."

"I just went to college."

"You didn't tell him first."

"Why should that matter?"

"Didn't you just say that he was more like a father than your Dad?"

"Yeah."

"You blind sided him. And then, I misspoke. He's not talking to either one of us." Sam nodded. He stood and took his coffee cup to the sink and looked out into the dark snowy night, wishing that his brother would just appear on the porch. Right now, right this second, he would give him the apology he deserved.

Dean watched as Sam's long lean frame stood in Bobby's window. He had been waiting in the snow for a couple of hours waiting to see his brother. He wasn't welcome at Bobby's. He knew that. But he really wanted to see his brother. It was Christmas for God's sake.

He watched as Sammy looked out into the distance, and Dean smiled.

"Merry Christmas little brother." He whispered before walking back down the street to his car.


	11. Busy Signal

Today was January 24th, 2003 his twenty-fourth birthday and he was in his car following his father's truck to their next destination, to their next hunt, to their next near death collision. Definitely not the way he wanted to be spending his birthday. He sighed as he turned on the windshield wipers, yet another drizzly winter day in Midwest of the United States. Sometimes he thought that he should have been a weather man. He chuckled to himself.

"I would so be a better weather man than any of those yahoos that are on television." He sighed again and readjusted in his seat and settled in for another few hours worth of driving when his cell rang. It startled him. There was no reason his father should be calling, he was doing what he should be doing, following right behind his father, and it wasn't like Sam was going to call him and wish him a happy birthday or just call to call. Because he hadn't heard from Sam in two years, and he really and truly didn't expect to ever hear from him again. There was no one else that would call him. Pastor Jim or Caleb would call John if they needed something. He dug in his pocket and retrieved the small device and answered.

"Hello?"

"Dean!"

"Saffy!" A smile spread over his lips. He hadn't heard from her in a couple of weeks and it was a pleasant surprise. "How is everything up there in Montana?"

"Snowed in. Completely. Up to my ass in snow." She laughed. "Where are you?"

"Driving through Ohio. It's raining. I swear this state is either up to its eyeballs in rain or snow. I don't think there has been three days I've been in this state without getting wet." She laughed.

"Well, I'd rather it be rain up here. You on your way to a hunt?"

"Yeah, following my dad to Pennsylvania."

"What's there?"

"A poltergeist."

"Sounds like buckets of fun."

"I can't wait."

"So," she started.

"Oh, I see, you didn't call to just hear my wonderfully sexy voice, you need something?" he said with a smirk.

"Well, actually, I'm calling with a message from a mutual friend."

"Caleb?"

"No." she hesitated.

"Who are you talking about then? Other than Caleb we don't have mutual friends."

"Yeah, actually, we kind of do."

"Who?"

"Bobby."

"Singer?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah." Silence on Dean's end. The swoosh of the windshield wipers was the only noise that Saffy could hear over the line. "Dean? You still there?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, Saffy, I'm still here." He really and truly didn't want to know what message Bobby could possibly have for him. His back tensed and he figured that only bad news could come from this.

"Dean you are awful quiet."

"Well, I…"

"Bobby wanted me to tell you Happy Birthday. And that he misses you." Dean couldn't have been more shocked if she told him that Sam was at the next exit waiting for him.

"What?"

"Bobby wanted to tell you Happy Birthday. Also, Sam's okay." Dean blinked. Tears sprang to his eyes.

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Did Sammy tell him to give me that message?"

"I don't know. I think that you should call Bobby and find out."

"He's not mad at me?"

"No. He never was."

"But…"

"Dean, you stubborn assed man. Just call Bobby." Dean swallowed and licked his suddenly dry lips. His eyes focused on his father's license plates.

"Yeah, okay."

"And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy Birthday. When you come by here again, we'll celebrate."

"We don't…"

"We'll celebrate." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Now call Bobby."

"Okay..Saffy…thanks."

"No problem. Talk to you later."

"Bye." He flipped his phone closed and thought for a moment. It had been two years complete since he last spoke with Bobby. What could he say to the man he had always revered as a father figure? A man who had told him to leave with his real father? A man he was fairly certain that was mad at him, what was there to say? He sighed and flipped the phone open again; he dialed the number before he had a chance to think. The grizzled old hunter answered before the third ring.

"Dean? Is that you boy?" The sound of Bobby's voice released a tension that Dean hadn't known was thrumming through his body.

"Yeah. It's me."

"It's so good to hear from you boy."

"You too."

"I've tried to call you…"

"Number changed."

"I noticed."

"My phone broke not long after Sammy left."

"That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why your brother thought you didn't want him in your life anymore."

"What?"

"He thought you changed your number because of him."

"God no. Some freak of the week stomped it into little baby pieces. Such small pieces that it was nothing but silver slivers on the ground."

"And you were okay?"

"Yeah. I rolled out of the way in time."

"Good boy. How the hell are you Dean?" he asked exhaling.

"I'm okay." He said with sincerity.

"Your brother is okay."

"Dad checks on him."

"I'm sure he does. But he really is okay Dean. I talk to him a couple of times a month. He's got a girl." Dean closed his eyes and tried to keep the emotions at bay.

"She pretty?"

"As a picture. They are beautiful together."

"I'm glad."

"He misses you too Dean."

"Bobby, don't lie to me. I'm just as good at lying as you are."

"I'm not lying to you Dean. He asks about you."

"But…"

"Saffy keeps me in the loop." Dean chuckled. He should have known. Little thing had been playing spy. Smart sneaky little thing. He would definitely have to do something to the little informant when he saw her again. "Dean you need to call your brother."

"He's.."

"You both are just so full of excuses. Get over it and call him. Here is his number." Bobby rattled off the number to Sam's dorm room and Dean memorized it without trying.

"Thanks Bobby."

"No problem boy. Now I want to hear from you on a regular basis. None of this having to ask that girl for information. You call and tell me what is going on. You hear?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now you go along and call your brother."

"Yes sir." Dean paused for a moment to reclaim his emotions. "And thank you Bobby."

"Happy Birthday son."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Call him." Jessica said with exasperation.

"I don't have his number."

"That's crap. You know full well how to contact your brother. Didn't you tell me that your uncle got it for you?"

"Yeah."

"Then call him. It's his birthday."

"What if he doesn't want to hear from me?"

"Sam." She rolled her eyes. "Come on. What is the worst that he can say?"

"That he doesn't want to hear from me ever again."

"What makes that different than what is going on right now?"

"It makes it final."

"You act like it's final now. What would change?"

"I can still pretend that he misses me."

"I bet he does. Whatever happened between you two can be fixed. You're brothers."

"But."

"Sam. What did you tell me when I wrote that essay for the contest?"

"That the only kind of fear there is, is what we make up in our heads."

"And why doesn't this apply to you and your brother?" He studied over the answer to that question and when an answer wasn't immediate Jessica handed him the phone.

"Call. Don't be a wuss." Sam sighed and took the phone from her.

* * *

Dean took his phone and slowly dialed the numbers Bobby had given him.

* * *

Sam slowly punched in the numbers Bobby had given him.

* * *

Dean put the phone up to his ear slowly.

* * *

Sam put the phone up to his ear slowly.

* * *

Busy signal

* * *

Busy signal.

* * *

Dean snapped the phone shut with a decisive click. He turned it off. He threw his cell phone on the passenger side of the Impala. He'd called. He wasn't there. He wasn't going to do it again. Both hands on the steering wheel he cursed birthdays.

* * *

"Busy signal." He said and handed the phone back to Jessica.

"Try again later."

"Nah." he said and got up and went into the bedroom and closed the door on Jessica and the phone and his brother.


	12. Jealousy

A/N: This one is a fill in for the episode "Phantom Traveler".

* * *

Jealousy wasn't exactly an emotion Dean Winchester was used to. He was used to being angry, or scared, or disappointed or even happy but jealous…that just something he didn't feel very often and when he did it was fleeting. Growing up he had watched other kids get picked up by their moms and dads and grandparents too, he had watched and wished that he could be one of those kids with a family to go home to, to be loved by, to be cared for by…but he hadn't wished for that for long. Because inside all of these seemingly perfect families there were siblings that disliked one another, hated each other, wished the other didn't exist. Siblings that backstabbed, purposefully angered the other or were simply ignored by the other one. For those reasons he had counted himself lucky and definitely not jealous.

Even Sam's intelligence had been a source of pride for Dean. Sam was just the book smart one of the team. Sam doing the research end of their job was always a blessing in Dean's book. It allowed him to go in smart when he had to defend his family against one of the nasties of the world. While Sam could hold his own with a gun or a machete in his hand, he preferred to use his intelligence, he left the blood and guts to Dean. Never once had Dean been jealous that his brother was intelligent until today.

Dean, his father, and the guy they were helping, Jerry Pinowski, were sitting in Jerry's living room waiting for this nasty as all hell poltergeists to rear its ugly head so they could figure out what to do and destroy the fugly bastard.

"We just moved here a couple of months ago. Our oldest boy went off to college, and we needed a change of pace." Jerry said as he eyed the room obviously worried the poltergeist would come out of the wood work and attack him specifically.

"My youngest is in college." Dean turned abruptly to his father. There was a strict "No talking about Sammy" rule firmly in place in their family. What confused Dean more than his father actually mentioning Sam was the fact that Dean detected a note of pride in his father's voice.

"What college?"

"Stanford. Full ride." John Winchester said with a prideful smile. Dean looked down at the salt gun, the thing he had come up with in order to dispel ghosts—it was infinitely more effective than throwing it at ghosts, he wanted to push the gun at this Jerry guy and go "I made this. I did it. See. I'm smart too!" But just like everything else since Sammy left, he pushed it down deep. Pushed it into the box marked "feelings I don't want to deal with" and shut the lid, granted he had to sit on it to make it stay shut, but he got that sucker closed.

"Wow! My kid didn't get a full ride. He tried but he didn't play any sports."

"Neither did Sammy. He got the full ride based on his academic record."

"My youngest, well he's not the brightest. We can only hope that he can get a football scholarship."

"Don't have to worry about that with Dean here." John clapped Dean on the shoulder. He gave Jerry a smile, definitely one that didn't move any part of him except his lips. "He doesn't have any desire to go to school." Dean wanted to scream. He had wanted to go to school. He had gotten in. His father had found the letter and yelled at him for wanting to abandon his family as well. Why wasn't that mentioned? Why was it okay to make him look like a moron?

"Like the family business son?" Jerry asked. Dean nodded and tried to smile

"Yes sir."

"Well, that's a good thing then." Dean heard the implication that since he must be a dumb ass it is a good thing that he could be taught the basics of the family business. He looked down at his homemade EMF reader, the one he had made out of the walkman his father had thrown against the wall when he had been angry at Dean for listening to music while he researched. He claimed it slowed him down, and again wanted to show this guy that he was capable of something important and not just a drag on his father.

Dean wondered if any of it mattered to his father. He wondered why all of the sudden it was okay to be proud of Sam. Every time he mentioned Sam his father pitched a fit and reminded him that he was no longer a member of the family. But here he was talking to this Jerry guy as if Sam was the best thing that ever hit the face of the planet.

The jealousy burned so deep and so bright in that instant that Dean almost missed the fact that the EMF reader in his hand was going off like a police siren. That night Dean was knocked around, scraped and bruised and his ego was so deflated that he was fairly certain that he didn't have one any more. But the poltergeist had been take care of and as his father was saying his good byes to Jerry, Dean got into the Impala drove to the motel room, found it empty just as it had when he left it, Dad came and went so often anymore that they didn't even share a room, and Dean realized where the jealousy came from. Dean wasn't jealous of Sam, he was jealous that he wasn't the one to brag about Sam. John Winchester wasn't the one who sat up with Sam and helped him with papers, he wasn't the one to walk Sam to the nearest library and wait for him to do research, usually on a Saturday afternoon, he wasn't the one who helped Sam get ready for that soccer game he had been so hell bent in participating in, he hadn't been the one to teach Sam about girls, he hadn't done any of that. Dean had raised Sam. He had been the one to nurture him and love him and here his father was acting like Sam was his son. Sure, it may have been John Winchester who fathered, Sam but it was Dean who had raised him and he was the one who deserved bragging rights.

That was the argument he provided for himself while he was getting ready for bed, but the real reason was that Dean was in another dingy motel room, as dumb as the day before, learning nothing other than the best type of rock salt and which blade was the best to use on a pagan god, and Sam was out there in California learning about real things, things that most people learned about, things that had nothing to do with the life. Sam was out t here making friends and had a girlfriend, and here was, alone, again, in a motel room where people didn't even know his real name and would forget about him as soon as he pulled out of town. And his one consolation had always been that his father was proud of him, happy with him that he had stayed and done what was expected of him, and today he found out that his father was more proud of Sam who had rebelled and left the family business. That was what soured in his stomach and left him feeling like he wanted to retch.

Tomorrow, he would become a better soldier. He would be better, he would research faster, would be stronger and tougher. He would do anything he could to hear that same pride in his father's voice when talking about him as he heard today when his father spoke about Sam. He would make John Winchester proud if it was the last thing he did.


	13. Sleep

Now, here he was sitting on a bed, alone, in the middle of Arizona, while his father was in New York fighting something, he hadn't paid attention after he had been told that he wasn't coming with his father, and while his brother, who hadn't called last Thanksgiving, or Christmas, was at Stanford.

Before he thought about anything, he checked out of the motel and was in his car driving to South Dakota, where he knew full well Sam would be. He and Bobby had patched things up, and Bobby had encouraged him to come any time he wanted. Granted, he hadn't said anything about coming for the holiday or anything about Sam being there, but he didn't let that get in his way. He was going to go up there and pretend that he had no inkling that Sam would be there. Dean would be able to patch things up with his little brother and they would be able to call each other again. Dean would absolutely never admit how much he wanted to see his brother and just talk to him again. He missed him.

Never had the thought that Sam's girlfriend would be there sharing the holiday with Sam and Bobby crossed his mind. So it was no surprise that his blood ran cold when he saw the tall elegant blonde sitting on the porch swing sipping something from a mug and wrapped in a blanket. He pulled up and fully intended to turn around and find the nearest motel, take sleeping pills, and spend the whole entire day sleeping. Who needed Thanksgiving anyway? He was just backing the car up when the girl got up off of the swing and hurried to his car. She motioned to roll down the window. He sighed, and did as the beauty instructed.

"Dean?" she asked. He felt the blush creep up his cheeks. He cut the engine and got out of the car.

"Yeah, Dean Winchester." She gave a big smile.

"Sam's brother." He nodded. "He didn't mention that you were coming. He and Bobby went somewhere, they didn't tell me where, apparently it is a surprise, but they should be back soon." She continued to smile.

"I'm not staying. I made a mistake." He turned to get back into the car.

"But." He stopped, turned, and looked at her

"Look. I'd just screw up his holiday. He doesn't want me here."

"Dean." she called clearly confused.

"It was a mistake." He repeated.

"He wants you here."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No."

"Then he doesn't want me here. I didn't know you would be here. He won't want you around me."

"Why?"

"Oh, I'm sure he's told you enough stories about me to tell you why exactly he wouldn't someone as beautiful and obviously nice as you around a jackass like me. Don't tell them I was here."

"Dean! Wait!" Dean didn't listen this time. He just got into his car and drove. His heart wouldn't stop racing. That beauty probably thought him a monster and he couldn't hold it against her or Sam. He was a monster and his brother didn't need him in his life. No. It had been a mistake to go there. A big mistake. He didn't fit the whole sit down dinner situation. He would probably embarrass Sam. His brother deserved these family dinners. Deserved that beautiful girl, and he deserved to have Bobby to himself this holiday. He most certainly didn't. He found the only motel not booked, dropped his things, went to the bathroom, took the sleeping pills he had bought some time ago, and fell into a drugged sleep.


	14. Fix

Bobby Singer had been working in the salvage yard trying to arrange a pick up for several parts off of an old Pontiac, the buyer was an ass hole and was trying to get less than value out of the part and Bobby had half a notion to club him to death with a baseball bat. In his frustration he didn't hear Dean come up behind him.

"Mr. Singer here doesn't keep these old cars around for giggles dude." Dean started. "Mr. Singer is trying to make a profit same as you. So I suggest you take his offer. It is the best your are going to find. If you don't' like it get out of here and leave him alone, he has other people that are willing to pay for his product." The guy gave Dean a look that could have boiled the flesh from a lesser man's body, Dean, however, just gave the guy his best smile. The buyer looked Bobby in the eye and sighed.

"I'll take it." Bobby always marveled at how Dean handled people who thought they were superior. While saying nothing threatening or harsh, he had managed to get the ass to do exactly what he wanted to do. Dean's demeanor always said no nonsense and his voice left no room for argument. Bobby had missed that when Dean had quit working for him when Sammy went to college.

Bobby went and took care of the paperwork and when he went back inside his house he saw no signs of Dean anywhere, the Impala was parked out front where he usually parked it when he was there, but there was absolutely no sign of its owner. Bobby sincerely considered for a minute asking the car where Dean was.

He found Dean, underneath a car in the salvage yard. The car he was working on was the one that was giving one of his best mechanics a fit and a half.

"Dean?" Bobby asked and kicked the sole of Dean's boot.

"What Bobby?" he asked not moving from underneath the car.

"You okay son?"

"Fine."

"Why are you here?"

Dean's hands stilled. Bobby didn't want him here. It was one thing to talk on the phone, to check in and make sure he was still breathing, but it was another thing entirely to have him here under his roof. He should have known better, especially after Sam had been here for Thanksgiving. Dean rolled himself from underneath the car. He looked down at the tool in his hand and said, "I'll leave."

"Stop it. I don't want you to leave; I want to know why you are here?"

Dean stood and shook his head. There were so many reasons he was here. He needed someone to spend a couple of hours with, share a meal with, talk to him, something. His father had left him a couple of weeks ago for a hunt that was going to take a while and Dean was lonely. It didn't help that he had gone to Stanford, hoping that he could just talk to his brother for a while and ended up leaving without talking to him. "I was just hoping I could stay for a day or so. I could work on some cars to earn my keep—"

"Stop right there Dean. You can stay here as long as you like you know that. You're like family." Dean fidgeted with the tool in his hand.

"Thanks Bobby." Bobby sighed and watched as the young man lay back down and got underneath the car he was working on. Something was wrong. Dean didn't just show up here anymore. He pretty much viewed Bobby's house as off limits. Even said once that it was Sam's domain, he didn't belong there anymore. Understanding Dean Winchester usually took a fair amount of effort, but now a days, without Sam there to temper him and to give him direction in his life, he was impossible to understand.

Word in the hunter community said that Dean was the only one who didn't hunt out of revenge, sure he pretended that it was all about his momma, but the reality of the matter was that he did it because he never wanted to see another person loose someone they love because some random evil couldn't keep its paws off of their loved ones. Dean didn't hang around to get a thank you from those he had saved, but he always made sure they were able to get back home and tucked away with loved ones before he got into his muscle car and drove away, destination unknown.

Ever since that year that the boys had spent with him, acted as a family, Dean hadn't come around. Granted he spent quite some time not speaking to Bobby, but after he did, he didn't come around. This was the first time he visited since Sam left for school. It made Bobby a little suspicious. Something was definitely up with the young hunter.

Dean spoke very little the whole day. He spent the majority of it underneath a car. Bobby hadn't expected Dean to be a bucketful of conversation today, but he did expect him to at least say something. Bobby had made dinner and Dean sat and ate with very little interest, which was beyond unusual for the eldest Winchester child, and the only noise in the kitchen was their forks clattering against dishes.

"Son," he started when Dean was almost finished with his meatloaf. Dean looked up and for the briefest of moments his eyes registered sadness.

"Yeah Bobby?"

"Why are you really here?"

"If it is that much of a problem—"

"Stop that. What is the problem?" Dean shrugged and picked at his mashed potatoes, he put his fork down, and took a long swig from his beer bottle, all the while never looking at Bobby. Bobby knew the oldest Winchester well enough to know that all he had to do was be silent and wait him out. And, as always, it worked.

"I went to Stanford a couple of days ago." Bobby nodded, careful to keep the surprise off of his face. Dean cleared his throat. "I went with the idea that I would go talk to him, you know just shoot the breeze with him for the afternoon, make sure he was okay, and then well…I don't know what I expected after that….I just needed to see and talk to him." Dean shrugged, picked up his fork again and began stabbing at the peas that Bobby insisted that he eat. The silence was thick and Bobby was most certainly not going to be the one to break it.

"I got there. I saw him. I saw him with his friends. His friends with their nice clothes, Sammy in his nice clothes, the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet on his arm, and he was smiling. Smiling bigger than I have ever seen him smile. I watched him get into this kid's new Escalade and he was comfortable doing so. He looked like he belonged with them." Dean looked up and his eyes were sad.

"What's got you down then? Don't you want him to fit in?"

"Yeah of course I want him to fit in there." Dean said eyes intense and sincere.

"Then what is the problem?" Dean shrugged and picked up his fork again.

"Don't give me a shoulder shrug boy. There is something that is bothering you. Spill it."

"I don't fit." He said softly.

"What? Speak up."

"I don't fit. I don't have nice clothes, hell I'm just lucky if they aren't blood stained. One of the guys there, he was wearing a tank top, perfect skin, mine is so riddled with scars that it sort of looks like a road map. I can never fit in there. I just suddenly had this thought….this idea of what he would say if I walked up to him with his friends there, and said 'Hey Sammy. Wanna spend the day with me?' I would have embarrassed him. I would have scared his friends. I would have been that weird guy they would have talked about for the rest of their college years. I think Sam would have pretended not to know me."

"Dean…"

"I followed him to some of his classes too. You know he is taking some sort of advanced Trigonometry. What the hell does he need that for? No reason. He just wants to take it." Dean sighed and closed his eyes. "He's so smart Bobby. So talented. Who am I to interrupt that?" He took his hands off of the table and put them into his lap, starred at the calloused hands and sighed.

"Dean. He misses you."

"I wouldn't miss me." He stood and took his plate to the dog dish, scraped his food into it, and then washed his plate and dried it. He starred out of the window watching the sun fall below the horizon causing the sky to bruise purple and pink.

"Dean."

"I came because I needed someone just to sit with. I haven't spoken to another living soul in three weeks."

"Your daddy…"

"Has been gone for three weeks on a hunt somewhere. Said that it was safer for me to stay behind. Like I was some novice. Like I wasn't any good to hunt with." He bent his head and took a deep breath. "Maybe I'm not. Maybe I am just a liability."

"Son you are a good hunter."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Look I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'll be gone before you get up tomorrow." He said softly.

"No. You are going to stay here for a while. I was gonna call you today; get your help fixing that car. I need your expertise."

"Look, Bobby, you don't have to…"

"I ain't doin' any of this for you. You'd be doing this for me." Dean searched the man's eyes decided that he was telling the truth and nodded.

"Okay. I'll fix the car for you."

"Thanks. Now get to bed. I can't have one of my best mechanics tired." Dean gave a ghost of a smile, nodded and headed out of the kitchen. Bobby's heart hurt for the young man. Abandoned at such a young age had to hurt. Bobby had half a mind to clobber John Winchester and then go after Sam for good measure.


	15. Change

Sam called Bobby every Friday night, after his last evening class and before he took Jessica out or sat with her and curled up on the couch and watched a movie. It was an unspoken rule that Jessica had to wait until he had spoken with his Uncle Bobby.

This Friday night was no different. He called and Bobby answered the phone as if he had been sitting right next to it and Sam supposed that he had. The gruff old man sounded happy to hear from him like he always did. He asked Sam the usual stuff about Jessica and school and Sam told him about their planned date tomorrow night, the paper he got an 'A' on, his new job at the library and then he turned the conversation to Bobby and hunting, he got the latest on how their friends were doing. Bobby slipped in that Dean and his dad was okay. He always did, and that was the primary reason that Sam called. He craved knowledge of Dean.

"Bobby, how is Dean really?"

"What do you mean boy?"

Sam hesitated. "Well," he bit his bottom lip and contemplated how to proceed, if he wanted to proceed. "Well, how is he? Is he still the same Dean that he was when I left?" he asked. Bobby was quiet on the other end. "Bobby?" Sam asked after the silence had gone longer than he felt necessary.

"That's an odd question."

"I haven't spoken to my brother in two years Bobby. I just want to know if he is the same man." Bobby refrained from saying that all it took was a phone call and he could know exactly how his brother was and what he was like now, but he bit his tongue. That conversation usually ended with Sam angry, and it wasn't a pleasant thing for Sam to be unhappy.

"His hair is a little shorter." He said hesitantly.

"Come on Bobby that's not what I mean and you know it."

Bobby ran a hand over his beard and decided that being direct was the best way. "He's a man who has learned how to care for others and now he has no one to care for but himself. He doesn't look at taking care of himself as a priority. Never has, and I reckon he never will."

"What does that mean?"

"He's just not taking very good care of himself. Eating too much fast food, hunting too much and not taking enough time in between hunts."

"That's Dad's fault..he always…"

"It's not your daddy's fault."

"What?"

"You're daddy leaves him by himself for two or three weeks at a time, goes off hunting, tells Dean that he can take care of it on his own and that it would be too dangerous for Dean to go with him."

"But Dean's a fantastic hunter."

"He is."

"Then why?"

"I don't know son."

"But, Dean needs to have people around."

"I know."

"Dad has no right," Sam started getting angry and winding up for the three hour bitch session about how his father was a bad man.

"And you do?" Bobby interrupted. Sam's voice stopped dead.

"What does that mean?" He asked angrily.

"You are just as guilty of leaving your brother alone as your dad is. You don't call him. You don't write to him. The last information he has from you is the return of the money. So that boy is pretty much convinced that you hate him."

"I didn't mean…"

"What you meant by it means nothing Sam. His feelings are hurt. He's lonely. He came by Saturday, and he just wanted to stay. Just wanted to talk to someone other than himself. He needed to be with someone who was living."

"He could have stopped here." Sam said bitterly.

"Yeah. He did actually."

"What?" Sam said surprised. Dean had been at Stanford? When? Why hadn't he come to him and talked to him? Why didn't he know about it?

"He stopped by, saw you in your new fancy clothes…"

'They aren't new or fancy. I bought them at goodwill like every single other piece of clothing I've ever bought."

"What does the shirt you have on say across it?"

Sam looked down and sighed. "Hollister."

"Exactly. But he saw you with your friends, your fancy clothes and decided that he didn't fit in with you anymore. Thought that you would pretend not to know him."

"What?"

"You keep asking that question boy like you have never met your brother."

"Dean knows better than that."

"Does he?

"Of course he does."

"Okay. So this brother that is supposed to know you inside and out after two years of not speaking to him isn't supposed to feel insecure about seeing you, so different than the last time he saw you."

"I'm not that different Bobby."

"Son, you've had experiences that your brother never had. Never will."

"Not my fault he didn't want to go to college."

"Oh, see that's where you are wrong."

"I don't understand."

"He was accepted to the University of South Dakota, I offered to let him live with me if he went. He knew you wanted to go and that someone had to stay with your dad. So he just didn't. He gave up whatever dream goes through that thick skull of his so you could do it."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. Don't assume about your brother. There is a lot going on in that skull of his."

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"Why doesn't he tell anyone anything positive about himself? That is just how your brother works. So, in answer to your question, yeah your brother has changed a little in the last two years. He's harder. More quiet than he ever has been. He tries to put up a brave front and he's not doing as well as he would like too. He's hunting everything he can get his hands on, he's lonely, he tired, and he's sad. So sad that you can just see it in the way he walks. But, by God he'll let you and your daddy walk all over him if that's what you need. That's all he keeps saying, 'well if that's what they want or need.' But he doesn't take care of himself, he's got more scars than the last time you saw him and he's just…"

"Just what?"

"Just Dean."

"Is he still there?"

"No. He left this morning. There was something to hunt in Oregon. He didn't tell me what. He just left a note, a thank you, and a clean kitchen."

"Oh."

"Call him."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I've changed too much. Because he's changed too much."


	16. Misunderstanding

It was almost three years to the day since Sam had told his father and brother that he was leaving for Stanford. The day made him sad, made him crave his brother's banter, his stupid comments or something innately Dean.

Ten at night and he was checking in the last of the books, putting them in piles for others to shelve in the morning, he had worked over 14 hours today because he needed to be busy he needed to have something to do with his hands all day.

"Sam. You need to go home now." His boss, Candis, said with a smile. He scanned another book and looked up and smiled.

"I will. I've got like ten more and then I'll go home."

"What's eating you Sam?" she asked sympathetically.

"Just family stuff."

"Home sick?"

"A little."

"I get like that sometimes too, and I haven't lived close to my family for years. Give them a call. It'll make you feel better."

"Thanks. I might do that." He said and she gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and he sighed. He couldn't just simply call Dean. Just couldn't. Too much had happened too much time had passed. Bobby had even said that Dean had become someone different; Sam knew that he had become someone completely different. What would they say if they did call? 'Hey, Sam how's the football game? Hey Sam how is the studying going?' Sam could barely imagine his brother asking any of those questions. Dean would be so uncomfortable hearing about Sam's life that it would make him uncomfortable. And it wasn't like he could just go, "Hey Dean, kill any good spirits lately? Hey Dean, how's Dad? Taking care of the Impala?" He couldn't even imagine himself asking those questions much less calling his brother just to ask those awkward questions.

Sam sighed as he scanned; he knew he had destroyed their bond, but he didn't want confirmation of it with an awkward phone call.

He finished up and clocked out. He walked to work today because it had been absolutely beautiful. The night was warm and the sky was as clear as the California sky ever got. It suddenly made him wish to be at Bobby's house. The nights were always beautiful out there. He dug his hands into his coat pockets as he strolled down the street to his campus home. His cell phone, which he had been fingering inside his pocket, vibrated causing him to jump. He took it out, expecting Jessica's name, but instead it said 'Bobby'. Sam, confused as to why Bobby would be calling him, answered.

"Hey Bobby what's up."

"Dean is in the hospital." Panic, pure unbridled panic circulated through Sam.

"What happened?"

"Ghost got him pretty good before he got it killed. He has a punctured lung and a couple of broken ribs."

"Is he gonna.." There was a lump in Sam's throat. He couldn't say the words.

"He's going to be fine I think. I just wanted to let you know that he was okay. Dean didn't want me to call you…" Sam didn't hear anything after that. Dean didn't want Sam called. He didn't want him to know he was hurt or dying. He didn't want Sam around. All Sam could hear was the loud buzzing in the back of his head telling him over and over again that his brother didn't want to talk to him, didn't want him to know…didn't want him.

"You shouldn't have called then. Bye." He said angrily and disconnected. He swiped a tear from his eye and walked faster to his home.

Had Sam stayed on the phone he would have realized that the phone had been handed off to Dean and he was the one on the other end talking.


	17. Miscommunication

Dean pulled the cell phone away from his ear and handed it back to Bobby. Bobby saw the hurt in his eyes, saw the sadness, Dean swallowed hard, started to wipe at his nose but the cannula in his nose prevented it and he tucked his arms back into their crossed position over his aching chest.

"Dean?"

"I don't want to talk about it Bobby."

"Dean, what did he say?"

"I shouldn't have called, and then bye."

"Dean."

"I don't want to talk about it. He has made his choice painfully clear." Breathing was hard, and he wasn't sure if it was because one of his lungs had collapsed earlier in the day or because his brother made it official, said that he shouldn't have called. Either way, he wanted to be alone to regain his footing and to work on building that wall around his hart and making sure it was a permanent fixture. Bobby was looking at him with sadness and love and he couldn't take it. If he was going to harden his heart he couldn't have Bobby standing there looking at him like he felt sorry for him. He couldn't take it. "Go on home Bobby. I'll be fine."

"I'm gonna stay a while son."

"No, I'll be fine. Please just go on home. I need to be alone right now." Bobby thought a moment and the anger in his chest swelled. He touched Dean's shoulder and gave him a small smile.

"I'll be back in the morning." Dean nodded briefly and turned his eyes away from the elder hunter.

Bobby gave Dean a weak smile and did as the boy wished. He closed the door and he leaned back against it and sighed. Sam was going to be the death of Dean. That boy had no idea how much influence he had over his brother. No idea that if he called right now and said "Dean I need you to come here and fix my car." Dean would get out of the hospital bed, sign himself out AMA and go to California to fix his car. No idea that if Sam needed a new heart, Dean would give up his for him.

Bobby and Sam had had enough conversations in the last three years to know that often Sam thought of Dean as an extension of their father, and the two of them had had some doozie of fights when he said that. But to Sam, Dean represented the life he hated, and he wanted to stay away from it, all of it. And the longer they didn't speak, the more afraid Bobby was that they never would. Dean wouldn't be able to survive for long without his brother. Sometimes Bobby was surprised that Dean hadn't gotten himself killed. Sometimes he wondered if Dean thought he had anything to live for.

He closed his eyes and was just gearing his body to move when he heard a muffled sob and a noise of pain. It took everything Bobby had not to go back in there and hold him. Damn Winchester was on a hunt and just called to check on his kid, make sure he wasn't dead, but couldn't be bothered to be here and Dean's stupid kid brother made Dean feel like an idiot.

Bobby started walking and pulled his cell out of his pocket and called Sam. Voice Mail. Got in the elevator. Dialed again. Voice Mail. He got into the truck. Called again. Voice Mail. Bobby continued this the entire way to the house until Sam finally picked up.

"What Bobby?" Was Sam's petulant reply.

"Don't you take that tone with me boy."

"What do you want then?" Sam was still stinging after being told that Dean didn't want him called when he was hurt. His brother could be dying but he hated him so much he didn't want Sam notified. Didn't want Sam anywhere near him.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again. You hear? You do not take that tone with your elders. Especially when you are the one being a jack ass."

"What? He was the one who didn't want to talk to me!"

"What? You were the one who said you didn't want to talk to him! Where in the hell do you get off doing that to him?"

"I didn't say that to him. I said that to you. If Dean didn't want you to call me than you shouldn't have called me."

"You didn't listen. You never listen. You only hear what you want and then you stop. I had said that when I told him that you would want to know if he was hurt, he said that he did want me to call you. He did want to talk to you. And so I passed the phone off to him."

"I didn't know…"

"No. Because you don't shut your trap long enough to listen. Sam!"

"I'm sorry Bobby." Sam said quietly.

"That's all well and good, but you should be telling him not me." Sam was silent. "Now you're quiet. Not good timing Sammy."

"He won't want to talk to me now."

"Sam…"

"I gotta go."

"Sam."

"Bye." The call was disconnected and Bobby threw his cell across the yard. Yes. The next time he saw Sam Winchester he was going to clobber him for sure.


	18. Humiliated

A/N: Dedicated to those who wanted Bobby to clobber Sam.

* * *

Being a hunter had its advantages sometimes. It allowed Bobby Singer to find Jessica Moore's cell phone number with very little effort on his part. It also took very little effort to acquire her school schedule. He called her when he knew that she would be in between classes.

"Hello?" she said confused not recognizing the number on the screen.

"Jessica?"

"This is she."

"Jessica, this is Bobby Singer—"

"Sam's uncle?"

"Yes."

"Hello!" her voice held a smile.

"Hi, I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you."

"Of course."

"I need Sam to come here for spring break alone."

"Is this about his brother?"

"Yes."

"Is he going to be there?"

"I wish. He knows Sam's schedule about as well as Sam does, and he high tailed it out of here, he thinks this is more of Sam's home than his own and doesn't want to interfere."

"I gathered that at Thanksgiving."

"What do you mean?"

"He came by at Thanksgiving while you and Sam were out getting something, and he saw me and he apologized for being around and left."

"He came?"

"Yeah. I tried to get him to stay. I know that Sam misses him terribly…but…"

"He's stubborn."

"That is being polite."

"This is true. Just multiply that ten times and you have Dean." Jessica, not for the first time, wondered about the mysterious man that she had encountered last Thanksgiving. He had seemed so insecure and scared, but if you listened to Sam he was so strong and stubborn that nothing could ever get him down. She wanted to ask Bobby, wanted to know what kind of man she was missing out on knowing, but she couldn't. She couldn't invade Sam's privacy like that. If he wanted to tell her about his brother than he would in his own time. She would not pry.

"Is this about the phone conversation in the hospital?"

"Yeah. It is."

"I'll make sure he gets there alone."

"Thank you so much."

"Family first."

Sam did arrive at Bobby's the first day of spring break alone and solemn. He explained to Bobby that there was an emergency in Jessica's family that she had to take care of alone.

"I'm glad she couldn't make it." Bobby said gruffly as he held the door open behind him for Sam.

"What?"

"I need you here alone. You have things that you have to do that she won't understand."

"What are you talking about Bobby?"

"You are going to be spending your time here researching for me."

"Researching what?"

"A hunt." Sam bristled.

"I'm not participating in any kind of hunting. I refuse to research."

"Oh I think you will be researching."

"Or, what? You'll kick me out?" Sam stood with his feet spread, chin up and his eyes cold. He was trying to be defiant. Bobby recognized the look; Sam had given it to his father many times during his teenage years. Bobby refused to allow this boy a moment of petulant defiance. He needed to pay the price for shutting Dean down. For making Dean colder, for making him more quiet, for changing him into someone who hid his heart and curled up in on himself when he was alone trying to protect himself from the next emotional blow that was going to come his way. Bobby stepped closer to Sam, and while he may be smaller than the younger man, he made up for it in presence. Sam wanted to take a step back, but he knew that if he did it would be like admitting weakness, and one thing that Dean had taught him was to never show fear even if you were shaking so hard on the inside that your children's children would come out shaking. You always looked what you were afraid of head on and pretended like it was nothing. And that was exactly what he was trying to do right now. However, Bobby was scary when he was mad, and for some reason he was extremely angry. He hadn't seen Bobby this mad since he kicked John out of the house three years ago. He most certainly had never seen this anger directed at him.

"Where are you gonna go?" Bobby said quietly with a threatening edge. Sam swallowed.

"I don't want to research. I'm done with the life."

"You owe your brother."

"What? What does Dean have to do with this?"

"He is about to get himself into a hunt that will get him killed." Sam stood ram rod straight. "And you owe him a lot boy. The way you treated him." Sam had had time to think about his last encounter with his brother via phone, he had managed to make it Dean's fault. If Dean hadn't wanted him called than Bobby shouldn't have called. Dean should have spoken up on the phone if he didn't want Sam to slam it in his ear. He should have called back. He had rationalized this to the point of absolution. Well, not exactly absolution but at least to a place where he felt less guilty, less responsible.

"Not my fault he is a stubborn.." he didn't have a chance to finish the statement, Bobby's right fist connected with his jaw and sent him tumbling down to the ground. He sat on the floor holding his jaw, unsure if he should be shocked or angry. Bobby crouched down and met his startled hazel eyes.

"Don't you dare talk about the man who raised you like that. He gave up everything to raise you, to make sure that you got what you needed and what you wanted. Why do you think you got to play soccer? It most certainly wasn't because your daddy wanted to watch you play. No, your brother fought for you. And you are too damn stubborn to call him, to check on him, to apologize for your mistakes. I think the least you can do is research a hunt for him." Sam starred at him in shock. "Now get off of the floor, act like the man that Dean taught you to be and start looking up everything you can find on Incubi and Succubi. Your brother is walking into this hunt half blind, half cocked, and reckless. The books are where they were last time you were here. Get busy boy. I don't want to see you again until you have at least three sources of usable information. Go. Put that Stanford education to work." Bobby rose and waited for Sam to get off of his butt. He did not offer the younger man a hand he just watched as he struggled to get his long limbs untangled and standing. He did so without any further comment and went into the living room and opened the nearest book. It was definitely hard to research with humiliated tears pooling in your eyes.


	19. Weak

Bobby sat in the kitchen and researched on his lap top and listened to the sound of pages turning and sniffing coming from the direction of Sam. Bobby knew that if Dean were here he would yell at Bobby for making Sam cry, because well, he doesn't want to hunt, why should we make him? If he wants a real life let him have one. That would be where Dean would stop. With the phrase "I don't have a choice but he does" hanging in the air. Bobby wasn't about to let that boy in the other room get something else he wants. Sam had been mean and hurtful to his brother for three years, and Bobby had let it go, let Dean and Sam handle it, but they weren't handling it. Dean was letting Sam hurt him more and more. Dean was out there right now diving into a hunt he wasn't ready for, trying to prove something to himself and to his Daddy. He left Bobby's house before he was healed enough to go, and if they didn't get the research done, Bobby was afraid that Dean might end up on a funeral pyre before his 26th birthday.

Dean had changed so much since that phone call with Sam. He had become his persona, he had become what people thought he was, reckless, dangerous, flirty and stupid. It had become almost impossible for Bobby to get Dean to be open and honest, to be what Bobby considered normal. It just wasn't fair that Dean always had to tuck his heart away because if he didn't people would hurt it more than it already was. It wasn't fair that his baby brother, the boy Dean loved more than anyone, more than himself, would treat him so poorly.

Another sniff, another shuffle. Sam came into the kitchen with a book. He didn't look up at Bobby. "I think he will be safer if he has this amulet." Sam very gently laid the book down on the table next to Bobby. "Can we get it?"

Bobby looked down at the book. "Yeah. I think I can get a hold of one." Sam nodded. Then pointed to text next to the drawing.

"His Latin isn't that great. He might have a hard time reciting this chant." Sam wiped his nose with his sleeve. Bobby looked up at him and saw the tears were still in a free flow, but he had control over his voice. Dean had taught him that particular move. Bobby expected to feel sympathy, but he didn't. Sam needed to feel a little of what his brother felt.

"Write out a pronunciation key just like you used to Sam. Get busy."

"Yes sir." Sam said softly and went back into the other room with the book. Bobby made some calls and located an amulet that he could borrow in exchange for a favor. The amulet would be delivered in the morning.

Bobby came down stairs the following morning and found Sam asleep in the middle of the floor with his face pressed into a book. Bobby reached down and pushed his shoulder.

"Get up son. We have more work to do, go get a shower." Sam startled awake, rubbed the sand out of his swollen eyes and did as instructed.

Bobby picked up the phone and dialed.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Bobby."

"How close are you to here?"

"About three hours, from your place and about seven from my hunt, why?"

"I need you to swing by here and pick up the amulet for this hunt."

"Bobby, I don't need some hunk of metal to protect me from a chick. I'm pretty good with women. I can handle it."

"Boy, you will stop here on your way. You will pick up this amulet and the Latin, you will have lunch, and you will not complain. Do you hear?" Silence greeted Bobby. Then he heard Dean clear his throat.

"Yes, sir. But Sammy…."

"Isn't here. He and his girl went elsewhere for their break."

"Oh, okay. I'll see you around 2." They hung up, Bobby fed Sam, and put him to work researching, not just his brother's hunt but any hunt he could find. Sam was on punishment as far as Bobby was concerned and for Sam, punishment was researching a hunt.

Bobby was outside when the Fed Ex guy came bearing the box with the amulet, he was also outside when Dean's car pulled up.

"Hey Bobby." He said from the car. "Got the amulet?"

"You will get out of that car. Stretch, get something to eat and then I will give you the amulet and the Latin and you can go." Dean knew when he had been ordered and he turned off the car and got out. He stuffed his keys into his pocket and followed Bobby to the house. "Where did you get that cut on your face Dean? You only left two weeks ago."

"I was cut by something with claws that were razor sharp. Damn thing." Dean mumbled as they opened the door. They strolled into the kitchen and Sam was sitting at the table with a book in front of him. Dean immediately stopped. His eyes went wide and he looked at Bobby.

"You said that he wasn't here!" Sam's face paled when he saw his brother. He wanted to vomit when he heard what Dean said.

"I lied. Okay. You boys need to talk."

"He doesn't want to talk to me. He's made that incredibly clear!" Dean said, Sam could have sworn he saw that Dean looked like he wanted to cry. Sam stood and starred at his furious brother.

"Dean." Dean swiveled to face his brother.

"Look. You've said quite enough to me. You've shown me exactly who you are now and the fact that you are probably embarrassed of me, I know where I stand with you. I knew that two and a half years ago when you sent me back the money. I'm sorry you were stuck with a jackass of a brother. I'm sorry. But this is who I am, and I can't be anything else." He turned from Sam. He couldn't look at him anymore, couldn't stand to see the man that he loved more than life itself, look at him with contempt, or look at him with pity because he was a pathetic looser who couldn't make people love him, who couldn't even get his father to come when he was in the hospital. No, Dean didn't need that. He turned to head back out the door.

"Dean!" He only turned when Sam called his name because years of protecting the kid had ingrained it into him. Sam was startled by the hurt in Dean's eyes.

"What Sammy…oh wait…sorry…Sam." The name sliced through him.

"I didn't mean it."

"Pretty weak." He said and pushed open the screen door and it slammed with finality.


	20. Moron

That was so not how Bobby envisioned this whole thing going

That was so not how Bobby envisioned this whole thing going. He expected Dean to be upset, yes of course because Dean Winchester didn't like being taken by surprise, but for him to flat out leave and not even let Sam talk, that was definitely something he didn't expect. Apparently Sam didn't expect it either because his mouth was hanging open and he was starring at the door that had just slammed. His feet seemed to be rooted in their place, he wasn't moving and Bobby wanted to just about smack him for it. "What are you standing there for boy, go, do, or say something!" Sam startled out of his daze.

"What?"

"Who care what you say, just get out there before he takes off." Sam jumped a little and barreled out of the door that his brother had just exited.

"Dean! Dean! Wait!" He screamed, his voice cracked on the second calling of his brother. Bobby followed Sam out and watched as Dean stopped walking to the car, keys in his hand and his back was so straight that you could have used it as a ruler. Sam reached Dean and touched his shoulder. Dean turned.

"What Sam? I think I've heard enough." Dean's face was hard; his body was straight hard lines that looked like they would break if too much pressure was applied.

"You haven't heard anything I have to say!" Sam said.

"Really? Because I'm pretty certain that I have."

"I haven't said anything."

"Actions speak louder than words Sam." He stopped himself before he could call his brother Sammy. The recognition that the man before him was a man and not the teenager that had left for Stanford three years ago was jarring. Sam stood taller than he remembered hair longer than he remembered, and his face had changed the way a boy's face does when it matures and becomes a man's face. He had noticed Sam's clothes and hair when he had visited Stanford, but he hadn't gotten a good look at the man he had become. He hadn't noticed that Sam needed to shave probably every day now, hadn't noticed that he carried himself like an adult now and not an awkward teenager that needed guidance and protection from his big brother.

Dean knew that he had nothing to offer this man anymore. He didn't know him and the only thing that held them together was a thin thread labeled "blood". And what exactly did that mean? Who cared? Sam had the life he wanted, the girl he wanted, and the education he wanted, there wasn't any more room in his life for a brother who hunted evil and was a screw up, someone who had barely passed high school, a man that wasn't even a man, he was a ghost, someone who was there and forgotten in an instant. Sam didn't need that in his life.

"What actions?" Sam demanded.

"Oh, I don't know, you gave back the money I gave you, what? Blue collar money not good enough for you?"

"What the hell Dean! You disappeared on me. Took off when I said I was going to college!"

"You didn't tell me you even applied."

"Why should I? I knew you would be mad."

"Mad! Hell I was so proud I couldn't see straight! But you didn't even want me to know! Freaking just told Dad and started a fight. Didn't even trust me enough to tell me first!" Sam stopped and looked at Dean's angry face. His brother was proud. How the hell had he not anticipated that?

"Proud?" Sam asked quietly.

"Of course I am proud of you." Dean said incredulously. "You freaking got a full ride to Stanford. I'm not some dick who doesn't feel anything but blood lust like some freaking vampire. Other thoughts go through my head other than hunt and kill."

"I know that Dean," Sam said softly.

"Apparently you don't." Dean said taking a step closer to his brother, anger radiating off of him. It took everything Sam had not to step back at his brother's advance. Dean had taught him better than to back down. "Because if you did, you wouldn't have left me out of your perfect normal life. You would have called me. You wouldn't have told me that I shouldn't have called when I was in the hospital. That year, your senior year, was the best year of my life. I got to keep you, you were happy, I had a home, I had Bobby, I got to hunt on the weekends, I made my own money, legitimate money, and then you go and do that with Dad. You start another fight, you don't give me time to ease dad into it, to make this work. No. You make sure I feel like I'm dad's bitch and that I'll just follow him like a moron and never think about you. How dare you! I have spent my whole life thinking about you, worrying about you, protecting you…"

"Then why didn't you come?! Why didn't you come to Stanford and knock on my door!? I wished so hard that you would have come with me to get me settled, help me buy the things I needed for school, everyone else had someone, I had no one. I wanted you! But you were off licking your wounds. Playing the martyr like always Dean. Why couldn't you just suck up your pride, suck up your imaginary wounds….why do you always have to follow orders like a good little soldier? Why can't you be a man?" As soon as the last words tumbled from his lips he knew he had screwed up. Dean's whole body and faced closed. His eyes fixed on Sam's.

"Dean..I'm sorry."

"No, I get it Sammy. I get it. I won't bother you again." He strode to his car quickly, opened the door slammed it and had the car roaring and skidding out of the salvage yard so quickly that Sam briefly wondered if the Impala was mad at him too.

Bobby came up behind Sam and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I screwed up."

"Yes you did." Leave it to Bobby to be honest.


	21. Realization

The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence. Bobby tried several times to call Dean, to get him to come back and get the amulet, because this hunt would go so much more smoothly if he had protection against the succubus. Dean never answered, Dean was avoiding his call. Bobby sighed and put down the phone, sat down at the table where Sam was reading more on succubi, and looked at the young man. Sam looked tired and sad, and there was even a hint of anger to his posture. But Bobby knew that the overall emption plaguing Sam was worry. Sam was worried because he knew that when Dean was angry he was reckless, and he was extremely angry today.

"I shouldn't have said that he wasn't a man." Sam said out of the blue startling Bobby.

"I agree."

"Why did I?"

"Because Dean made you mad."

"He told the truth."

"Yes, he did."

"He doesn't tell the truth about himself very often."

"True."

"It must have taken quite a lot for him to admit all of that stuff."

"Probably more than you will ever know boy."

"I've been selfish."

"He's allowed you to be selfish, always has."

"Why?"

"Because, to your brother, your life, your needs, your wants, have always been more important than his. Ever since I met the kid that's how it's been. I'd give him a toy and if there was only one, he'd give it to you and smile and watch you play with it. Everything he has ever had he has made sure you got." Bobby got quiet, he watched Sam, watched as he pretended to read the book that was in front of him.

"I didn't mean for it to be like that." Sam said quietly, not meeting Bobby's eyes. "Dean deserves more."

"I agree."

"Why doesn't he? Why doesn't he go after what he wants?"

"He tried. He said as much to you in the driveway. He told you, told you that your senior year was perfect. He orchestrated that year. He made sure you got every single thing you wanted, and more. That was what he wanted. He wanted a home, he wanted his family, and it all vanished one day. Vanished when you didn't think about anyone but yourself. You made him realize everything he missed."

"But I didn't make him drop out of high school."

"He didn't."

"I thought?"

"No. He didn't. Actually he got a full ride to University of South Dakota. But he didn't want to go. I offered to let him live here, but he couldn't. He couldn't leave you." Sam felt the blood drain from his face. Felt the humiliation sting him again. He hadn't noticed, hadn't ever thought that his brother was very smart, never noticed that Dean was always there, waiting for him, asking him what he wanted for dinner, what he wanted to do, what he wanted to watch, Sam hadn't noticed all that his brother had given up for him. But he, Sam Winchester, had never given anything up for his brother. Sure he had given him a gift or two throughout the years, but Dean never wanted any gifts, he wanted love and acceptance. Someone to be with him and there for him and Sam never had. Sam wiped away the tears that were falling before they could reach the book he was researching through. Bobby put a hand on his shoulder and left him to his thoughts, left him to his humiliation, left him to his memories, and left him to the research that could help his brother.

He forced his eyes to focus, forced them to see the words, and forced them to do something for his brother, something that his brother needed, without protest, without griping. Dean would get the information he needed one way or another.

Later that night, Bobby's cell rang….it was Dean….frantic….yelling….he was calling for help.


	22. Incubus

Bobby, who Dean woke out of a dead sleep, was barely able to get information out of Dean. He sounded terrified, voice quivering, breath coming in quick little gasps and pants, and that scared Bobby more than anything. Bobby thought that Dean had been after a sexual succubus, which Bobby was positive Dean could handle, because Dean liked sex, and knew his way around desire and lust, but with the sound of his voice and the terror in each word, Bobby knew they weren't dealing with sex, they were dealing with fear, and that changed the ball game.

"Sammy okay?" Dean asked shakily.

"Sam's fine."

"But what if he's not? Bobby, Sammy's sick or something and you're not telling me. Oh God. If Sammy's sick and I'm not there he'll die. Bobby don't let me die here alone, please please, I don't want to die alone." The eldest Winchester began to cry. He sobbed Bobby's name, pleaded with him, told him he would be good, anything he thought of to make him come and not let him die like this alone. It took all of Bobby's strength and endurance to get the boy's coordinates out of him and when he did, he promised Dean he would be there as soon as possible.

Sam was standing at the door when Bobby hung up the phone. "Get dressed." Bobby ordered.

"Dean?"

"Get dressed I'll explain in the car." Sam wasted no time, he was standing in front of Bobby's door less than three minutes later, shirt unbuttoned, hair uncombed, and shoes in his hands.

"Ready."

"Just like your Daddy taught you." Bobby said.

"No, just like Dean taught me." Sam's eyes were serious, no joking, no humor, not even a drop of irony. There was fear, there was determination, there was everything there but the disgust that he usually wore when he knew he was going into a hunt situation.

"Come on Son let's go get your brother." They got into Bobby's truck, Sam buttoned his shirt, and laced his shoes.

"What are we dealing with? What kind of succubus?"

"We're dealing with an incubus."

"But incubi are primarily male. I don't see…"

"It is a fear incubus."

"Oh shit."

"You read up on those boy?"

"Yeah. I have. A fear incubus, can be male or female," he started explaining as if he were reading the text right in front of him. "They induce fear in their victims and they feed of off that fear. They can be killed with a silver blade." Sam paused for a while and watched the South Dakota scenery fly by his window. "He must really be afraid of a lot of things for him to be paralyzed by it so quickly, most people aren't really that terrified until the third or fourth day."

"You're brother left us without his emotional walls up." Bobby said. "It was all right there for the incubus to get and take. Probably is getting one hell of a meal out of that boy."

"My brother is not food." Sam said coldly.

* * *

Dean was sitting on a concrete slab, shivering in the cold of the wet damp room, and shaking uncontrollably with fear, as a woman came to him and she put a finger underneath his chin, at first she had been beautiful, she had been warm, inviting, she had weaved a story about how she had been a victim of the incubus. How he had been coming to her in her dreams every night and it was starting to scare her.

Dean offered to stay in her room with her and protect her from it. He had laid on the Winchester charm and she had moved him from her room to her bed in record time. But when she had been on top of him, kissing him, and moving lower on his body, and when he opened his eyes he found that her perfect honey brown irises had changed, the honey had changed into gold, and when she saw how startled he was she smiled, revealing her fangs, where once had been perfectly straight white teeth. Panic and fear surged through Dean's body. She played on his fears, induced them, nurtured them, toyed with them as if they were a puppy growing into adulthood. Once the fear filled him she laughed, petted his face and left him, locking him inside the dungeon. With her magic gone the room became what it really was, a cold damp cell.

* * *

They found the house that Dean had pointed them towards with relative ease. Sam had the door open and he was out of the truck before it had stopped moving. Bobby yelled for Sam to come back, but he didn't listen.

"Stupid Winchesters." Bobby muttered as he threw the truck into park and chased after the younger man.

Sam didn't wait to pick the lock he just ran ahead and kicked the front door open, and charged through the shattered wood yelling "Dean!" Bobby caught up in time to see that Sam had found the incubus. Or better yet she allowed herself to be found. Sam didn't even give her a second before he threw a knife at her; it landed straight in her heart. She laughed and moved forward.

"Silly, silly little hunter. A little knife in the heart won't hurt me." She moved forward gloating and telling Sam he was stupid, incompetent, slow, useless, childish and ignorant, and just as she was getting close, Sam pulled the machete out of nowhere and in one simple clean stroke severed her head from her body. Bobby stood there stunned. Sam turned to the elder hunter, wiped the blood spatter from his face and said,

"I may not like hunting, but it never meant I wasn't good at it." Sam said coldly. "We have to find Dean."


	23. Sobbing

Bobby grabbed Sam's arm. "Now look here boy. You can't just go off half cocked. That isn't going to help your brother."

"I'm not going off half cocked. I've done the research. I know what I'm up against."

"How many times have you spoken with your brother since you left for college?" Anger bubbled up Sam's chest and turned his face red. He took a defensive stance, his hand so tight around the handle of the blade that his knuckles were white. _How dare Bobby bring that up? Now of all times! What in the HELL does that have to do with getting Dean back in one piece, mentally and physically?_ Sam wondered to himself.

"You know that answer. I most certainly don't' have to help you with that Bobby."

"I now understand why you and your father fought so hard. It's amazing he didn't kill you."

"You got something to say Bobby?" Bobby got right in Sam's face.

"You will treat me with respect boy. I have never treated you with anything less. I'll excuse it this time because you are worried about that pig headed brother of yours. But be warned, I will not take this from you ever again. Just because Dean does, doesn't mean the rest of the world will." Sam shrunk, if not in physical size, than his spiritual size, Bobby had put him in his place without so much as a fist or a threat. He simply handled it like a father, someone who cared for him and knew what he was going through, but would not tolerate such disobedience from a child. Sam suddenly wished that his own father had treated him as such.

"Yes sir." Bobby backed down a little and took a breath.

"Now, answer my question."

"You've seen the times I've spoken with Dean since I left for college."

"As I thought. Now, you have to remember he has changed since you left."

"I don't understand."

"His fears have changed, mutated, this is the worst possible thing he could have stumbled upon alone."

"Bobby, you aren't filling me in."

"Your brother is terrified of being alone. Terrified." Sam's eyes narrowed in confusion

"I know. You told me. That was part of that whole talking to Dean fiasco."

Bobby sighed trying to contain his frustration. He really didn't have time to explain Dean to his little brother, the brother that should know all about the man who had raised him, who taught him everything from how to tie his shoes to how to shoot a gun. "You aren't listening Sam. He's afraid of being alone, afraid that if he dies alone, no one is going to come looking for his corpse, no one is going to care if he rots in the middle of an abandoned building, or a forest…that you and your daddy will just not care enough to go and find him." Sam's mouth fell open and Bobby held up a hand before he could continue. "He's afraid of becoming what he hunts." That shut Sam's mouth straight up. "He's afraid of you dying, of him not being there to protect you, afraid that your dad doesn't love or want him, afraid that your dad will be dead. All of that goes through his head all of the time boy. Now, if that is what he fears most, that thing you just beheaded, has made a world for him a world in which all of that has happened, so he becomes better food, the more fear the better the food, and if she can make him panic…well…that's like throwing some mustard on a hot dog, not needed but it most certainly makes it taste better. So we need to find him, and if he starts screaming when he sees you, or doesn't see you, you have to go with it Sam. You can't go all weepy on me or your brother."

"I do not.." Bobby held up a hand silencing the younger hunter.

"You get weepy. Just keep yourself together." Sam stood straighter and Bobby realized just how tall he really was, and he nodded to Bobby to lead the way, and the two hunters went on the hunt for one of their own.

Searching the house took more time than either of them planned. Bobby was holding a mental countdown to when he thought Dean would break. He gave the boy a little over 24 hours, because he had been on the brink when he had left the salvage yard and with this incubus feeding off of him, inducing fear and panic, Bobby was worried that Dean's mind wouldn't last longer than 24 hours. He damned John Winchester under his breath for the millionth time, if he had just paid attention to Dean, noticed him, this could all have been averted.

"He's here!!" Sam shouted from below. Bobby had been searching the top floor and Sam the lower.

"Sam!" he called as he charged down the stairs.

"Here!" Sam called again in a sort of supernatural "Marco Polo" game. But as Bobby approached he didn't need to call for Sam again, he could hear Dean's screams.

"Let me out of here!!" he screamed. It burned Sam's stomach. Dean never screamed. Dean never asked for help. Dean was never afraid. He heard his brother throwing himself against the door begging and pleading to be let out. Just as Bobby arrived he heard Dean slide down the door sobbing saying "Please let me out. I don't want to be alone. Please let me out. I need to get to Sammy." The words turned in to crying and Sam saw his brother's finger peek through the hole in the door that was there to slip food into the captured, and he covered his mouth, blinked hard and allowed Bobby to get in ahead of him.

"Son?" Bobby called. Dean couldn't' hear. He was stuck in his own fear. And his fear said that no one was coming, that no one was going to hear his screams. "He's trapped inside the fear. We can't break the door. We need to pick the lock." Bobby said and began fumbling for his lock pick kit. Sam took the kit out of the older hunter's hands.

"Let me." he said. He picked the lock Bobby opened the door and Dean fell forward onto the floor sobbing.


	24. Savior

"Dean!" Bobby said and knelt down next to the frightened hunter. "Dean." he said more gently as he gathered him up in his arms.

"Bobby!" Dean said trying to get some semblance of control. "Bobby!" He scrabbled to get a hold of Bobby's shirt. "Dad. Sammy. I can't find them Bobby. Did they leave me? Are they coming back? I can't find them. I need your help." Dean pleaded while tears poured down his face. "I don't know if I'm strong enough. I have to protect Sammy. That's my one job. I can't fail at that job. Where's Sammy?" he pleaded. Bobby watched as he tried to control himself. Tried to school his face back into its normal lines. And while he managed to get control of his face, he couldn't control the fear that made his eyes wide and unblinking or stop the trembling in his hands.

"Dean. I'm right here." Sam said gently. Dean turned to Sam and let go of Bobby's shirt. He scooted backwards and shook his head.

"No." He started moving backwards always keeping his brother in his sight. "You're not Sammy." He said in a trembling voice. Sam's heart crushed. He swallowed thickly.

"Dean. It's really me. It's Sammy."

"No, Sammy is a child. You don't' even look like my Sammy." Dean said trying to rise to his feet. Bobby knew that once Dean was on his feet it was a dangerous thing, it would be more effort and energy than he had to get Dean on his ass again. Winchesters were strong group of men and they were as hard to catch as they were to reason with. What scared Bobby right now was that if Dean got on his feet he would lunge at Sam, and God only knows what kind of weapons he had on him other than the knife he had the hilt of in the palm of his hand, thinking that Sam was a demon or a shapeshifter or another incubus trying to attack him again. And knowing Dean Winchester, he would lunge to kill, he would have a knife at Sam's throat faster than you could say Sam. Bobby knew that when Dean got back to normal he would kill himself if he had hurt a hair on Sam's head. Bobby didn't want to loose both boys in a matter of days.

Thankfully Bobby knew Dean Winchester better than most, because he saw the boy get ready to strike out at Sam and Bobby clocked him square in the face, hard enough to knock him out.

Sam stood there in shock and dismay. "Why did you do that?"

"Because he was going to hurt you."

"But I could have handled it."

"Did you even notice he was going to stab you with the knife in his hand?" Sam's eyebrows went up as realization dawned on him. "See boy, you've been out of hunting for a while, you need to remember what you were taught if you are going to dive back in or you'll be dead inside of a week."

"But. He's my brother, he wouldn't have done it."

"Not normally, but under the circumstances, he would have plunged that silver blade right into your chest. Now come on we don't have time for this today. Pick up your stubborn ass brother and let's get out of here." Bobby noted the crushed expression in his eyes.

"Don't do that Sam. I need you strong." Sam blinked several times and shook his head in agreement. He grabbed his brother and slung him over his shoulder and followed Bobby to the car, put his brother inside, got inside, and tried to keep his emotions under control as they drove back to the salvage yard.

Once back, Sam carted his brother's heavy ass up the stairs and into the room that Sam had been using and that the two of them had shared when they were kids.

"Is he going to be okay now?" Sam asked as he unlaced his brother's boots.

"I don't know. I haven't read too much on this type of incubus." Bobby said as he pulled the covers over Dean's unconscious form. Sam couldn't look at his brother anymore. Couldn't stand to hear him say that he didn't know who he was when he woke up again.

"I'll go do some research. I'll be downstairs." He went downstairs and worked all night, he stayed downstairs even when he heard Dean's screams, heard him yelling that his dad and brother had been killed by a demon, forced himself not to move when he heard Dean beg for a weapon so he could end his own life. With each scream Sam forced himself to push harder, to research faster, he had to figure out what to do with the brother that had given up everything for him. It took hours, took all night, to find something that would help Dean. It seemed so simple. So easy to get him back into himself. Sam jumped up and promptly fell back down when he realized that his feet had fallen asleep while he had been researching.

"Bobby!" Sam yelled. "Bobby!" Sam yelled again when Bobby didn't respond. Bobby charged down the stairs and found Sam, glitter eyed, sprawled on the floor and the only thing that Bobby could figure was that Sam had finally cracked, that seeing his brother like that, his brother not recognizing him, had finally made the boy crack. He so did not have time to take care of two cracked Winchesters.

"Sam? You okay?" Sam smiled.

"I'm fine…" he said and struggled to his long spindly legs. "My feet fell asleep. I figured out how to help him.'

"How?"

"We need, Philadelphus, Bluebells, and Rosemary. Mix it with some water, not a lot, just enough to make it drinkable." Bobby nodded and went for the supplies. Sam took the cup as soon as it was prepared, took a fortifying breath, and went into his brother's room. Dean looked at him with weary suspicious eyes. They were the eyes he gave evil things that had trapped him and he was trying to find a way to kill his way out of it.

Bobby followed him up to the room, and both hunters nodded to one another and Bobby grabbed Dean before he knew what was happening and Sam forced his mouth open and drained the contents of the cup into his brother's mouth while he chanted the Latin that accompanied it. The chant finished as the cup emptied. Sam let up on his brother's jaw and Bobby eased a little on his arms.

"Bobby?" Dean said looking towards the older hunter. "Sam?"

"Oh thank God."

"What happened?"

"Fear incubus."

"Oh." He said softly.

"Son, you should rest." Dean shook his head, struggled to sit up.

"I have to go back, kill the son of a bitch."

"Sam killed it. It's over." Bobby said and pushed Dean back down. Dean gave Sam his full attemtion and Sam wanted to shy away from it but he forced himself to keep eye contact.

"Well I'll be damned." Dean said softly. Fatigue washed over him suddenly and he didn't have the strength to say what he wanted to his brother, so instead he nodded and Sam returned the one single nod of the head. Bobby was halfway out the door when Sam followed suit and he heard his brother clear his throat. Sam turned.

"You be here when I wake up little brother?"

"Yeah. I'll be here."


	25. Cost

Sam cleaned Bobby's office, organized files, put receipts in their proper order, organized his computer files and cleaned out old ones, called people who were deficient in their payments to Singer Salvage, and even managed to do research for his upcoming

Sam cleaned Bobby's office, organized files, put receipts in their proper order, organized his computer files and cleaned out old ones, called people who were deficient in their payments to Singer Salvage, and even managed to do research for his upcoming paper while Dean had slept. Bobby had put Sam to work the moment he realized that Sam was going to pace the floor up and down for the entire time in which Dean slept if he didn't have something for him to do. If Sam hadn't opened a text book and began working on school work, Bobby would have had him in his living room alphabetizing books and building the bookshelves for them to sit on.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Sam asked just as he started tapping his pencil against the text he was supposedly reading.

Bobby looked up from the occult book he was consulting for a friend. "When he's ready. You try being scared out of your wits for a long period of time and we'll see how long you sleep." Bobby said gruffly.

"Done that." Sam mumbled under his breath. Bobby didn't know what he meant by that, and right now, after seeing Dean scared out of his wits and begging, Bobby wasn't ready to shove emotional shit with Sam Winchester's name on it. He would have to wait until they got Dean squared away, because God knew he would high tail it out of here as soon as Bobby let him, or the moment Bobby wasn't paying attention, which ever came first. "Maybe I should go check on him." Sam said closing his book and pushing his chair away from the table.

"And maybe you should walk into a nest of vampires, just because it sounds like a good plan doesn't mean it is boy."

"Vampires are extinct." Sam said matter of fact. Bobby sighed. For a Stanford education one would expect a little more out of the guy.

"Of course they are Sammy." Dean said from the top of the stairs. He started his decent. "You know Sammy, for all of that expensive education you really need to get the analogy."

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked.

"Fine." Dean sat down next to Sam. It was the closest they had been in three years. Sam felt electric, like he just needed to reach out and make the final connection and the circuit would be complete, that everything would be right again. Dean looked to Bobby and the older hunter nodded and left the two boys alone. "Sammy, we need to talk."

"I agree. You go first." Dean nodded, licked his lips and sighed.

"I don't want to see you anymore." Sam's blood ran cold. That was not what he expected Dean to say. He expected 'Come on Sammy, come back and hut with me.' or 'I'd love to meet this girlfriend of yours.' Never did he expect his big brother, his hero, to tell him that he didn't want him around anymore.

"What?"

"I don't' want us to cross paths anymore. I don't want to hear from you, speak to you, or anything."

"But."

"Sam." Sam was caught off guard; he called him Sam, that was serious. "I've been thinking. I think it would be best. I mean, you need to have your life. You've always wanted it and you got it. Yay, go you. Now go out there and keep it. I don't need you. Dad doesn't need you."

"But, with the incubus."

"If I hadn't seen you and yelled, I would have been okay. My defenses were down because I was angry with you. You make me weak Sam. This is the last time I want to see you." Dean stood.

"I thought we were going to talk."

"We did." Dean said casually. "We're done." Sam stood as well. Dean extended a hand and when Sam didn't reply, Dean put his brother's huge hand inside his. "Good luck Sam." Dean strode to the kitchen and patted Bobby on the shoulder said something that Sam assumed were goodbyes, and listened as Bobby gruffly told him that he should be in bed, and then he heard the door snap shut and he felt a tear fall down his face. His brother didn't need him anymore. His brother didn't want him anymore. And this time, there was no miscommunication, no more wrong assumptions, this was fact, cold, hard fact. His brother had said it without even flinching. He fell back into the chair and barely felt Bobby put a hand on his shoulder.

The Impala purred. It sang with healthy rhythm. It's master, however, cried openly as Metallica poured from the speakers. He was almost more hurt than Sam was by his little speech. He didn't want to never see his brother again. But somewhere inside, deep inside, he realized that it would be safer for his brother to be away from him, away from hunting. He'd realized this on his way to hunting the Incubus. He had realized it even more when he had been forced to see all of the scenarios in which Sam could die, while he had been under the influence of the incubus, but when he saw his little brother downstairs, researching, researching something that had nothing to do with ghosts and goblins, it hit him square in the face, that if he encouraged Sam to keep in touch with him, he was sentencing his little brother to a life of misery, and lies that he had to tell in order to explain his delinquent brother. He didn't want that for Sammy. Couldn't have that for Sammy. Had to protect Sammy, even if the cost of that was his own heart.


	26. New Town, New Sam

Sam went back to Stanford the next week just a little more bitter than when he had left. Jessica was in class when he got home, he found a note saying that she would be back at 2 and to get his dirty laundry taken care of because she was not his maid, and then there was a promise of naughty things to come when she arrived home.

He smiled, but his smile was sad. He had lost his entire family in a five minute conversation, and no matter how beautiful Jessica was or how understanding, he couldn't explain to her what that did to him. Couldn't explain that he had always looked at it like Dean was just a phone call away and would come at a moments notice if he was needed, even though the two of them weren't speaking, and now, now, he doubted Dean would even pick up his phone. How had he screwed this up so bad?

He suddenly realized he couldn't face unpacking. He had clothes that needed to be thrown away because Jessica wouldn't understand how blood, he couldn't explain that it wasn't blood just Incubus goo, got onto his shirt, he couldn't explain the extra weapon Bobby had given him, just in case, and honestly he didn't want to. So, he threw his bag onto their bed, half disgusted, and decided to take a shower in the hopes of washing the smell of South Dakota, dust, Bobby, home, Dean, and the stupid hunt off of his body, so maybe he could pull on his Stanford persona and not feel tainted and tortured. Dean had once said, on one of the many trips to a new state and a new town in which Sam didn't want to go, that you just had to wash it off and become someone else, become someone better than the person you were in the last place. And Sam, almost 21 years old, got in the shower and tried to heed his big brother's advice.

It was a little after two and Jessica had just read the text from Sam telling her that he was home safe and she smiled. The text left no indication as to how the trip went and she had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't about to tell her beause there seemed to be a "no talking about the Winchester family" rule firmly in place. And God knows that she had tried to break, shatter, circumnavigate, cut and strip away that rule but she had never gotten even close.

She was walking briskly through campus, excited to get home and see Sam, when she decided it would be a good idea to call Bobby and see how it went, that way she could at least gage how well the fraternal bonding had gone. He answered quickly.

"Hello?" was the gruff reply.

"Mr. Singer!"

"Jessica how many times do I have to tell you it's Bobby." She laughed.

"Sorry, Bobby, how did it go? Did they talk?"

"Oh they talked alright. And in true Winchester fashion his older brother, the idjit, made things a whole hell of a lot worse." Jessica's face fell.

"So we made this worse by forcing them together."

"I think so girly." Jessica sighed. She had wanted to be able to meet Dean proper. Wanted to know this man who held a mysterious hold over the man she loved. He never really said anything about his family, but what he did always had the name 'Dean' peppered liberally through it. She and Bobby had joined forces soon after the first time they met. They had decided that the two brothers were both lost without the other.

So when Jessica came back to the apartment she expected a mopey and sad Sam. What she found was quite the opposite. He had his things put away and he was in the living room studying for a test that he would have in a couple of days. He smiled and embraced her, and they made love, barely moving the books in time. He never mentioned his brother, and he never appeared hurt.

"Are you okay Sam?" she asked lovingly after the coupling. She knew he wouldn't answer anything but in the positive, but it didn't mean that she couldn't at least give him the option of trusting her enough to tell.

"I'm perfect." He said. She nodded, knowing the opposite was true, but she smiled anyway and nuzzled into his chest, offering her love, hoping that would be enough.

"You smell different." She mumbled.

"New soap." He said off handedly. Reality was, he had bought new soap, new after shave, and new shampoo after he realized that he still smelled like Dean Winchester's younger brother. Now, he had definitely washed off the other town and was determined to be someone better in the new one. If there was one thing that Dean Winchester had taught by example, it was how to pretend to yourself that everything was all right. And Sam, despite everything, had learned his lesson.


	27. Sadness

His dad had called a couple of hours after his conversation with Sam. He said that he needed his help in Athens, Ohio with a job. Dean didn't' think twice. He simply said "yes, sir" in a strong voice, in a voice that didn't sound as if he had been weak and crying, and turned his car around and headed to Ohio. Dean never stopped to wonder why exactly Dad had called not three hours after his conversation with Sam, nor had he wondered why his dad would need him on a hunt. Usually, if Dean was there it was only because there were multiple creatures that needed attending too. If Dean had stopped for thirty seconds and thought, with his rational brain, and hadn't been trying desperately to get his emotions firmly locked back up into the strong box of his mind, he would have realized that Bobby had called John Winchester and told him on no uncertain terms that he needed to call his eldest and inform him that he was needed on his newest hunt.

The new direction and the new hunt gave Dean purpose, allowed him to concentrate on something, anything, other than a brother that needed to be at Stanford, getting a normal education, getting to have a normal relationship with a girl, and getting to be normal. It allowed him to pretend that it hadn't happened, to move on to a new city and to become someone else for the couple of weeks that he would be in Athens, Ohio.

He didn't end up becoming someone else when he went to Athens, he met a beautiful girl, skin like coffee, hair thick and lustrous, and a mouth that was kissable. He met her in the library, her doing research for a news article, she was studying to become a journalist, and he was researching the history of the house that was supposedly haunted. He found that when she asked his name he said "Dean Winchester" and not "Dean Plant" like his current fake ID said. The honesty surprised him and confused him at the same time. Lying always came easily to him, but with her, he simply couldn't lie. Simply could not come up with a story that he thought she would believe.

Their romance, because it was a romance--the first one Dean had ever initiated, began that night with coffee at a local diner. She picked the place, told him that she came there often, and her statement was proved true when the waitresses said "Hey Cassie, whose the new guy?" and gave Dean a smile. They talked all night. She told him about her mom and dad and how they were the first interracial couple in their small backward little town, and explained that she was an only child. And he found himself telling her that his mom had died in a fire, that his little brother was at Stanford on a full ride and that he was proud of him, and finally that he and his dad moved around a lot because of the business. She didn't inquire too much about the business and he didn't offer. But they actually got to know each other and only left the diner when they noticed the breakfast crowd had arrived. Neither was anxious to leave the other and they made plans for the following day. She hurried off to get to her class and he hurried to get back to his dad.

He didn't tell his dad, didn't tell him that he had told someone his real name, or that he had spent the whole night up talking, talking about something that didn't go bump in the night, with a girl. When he asked where he had been all night he had said "with a girl" and his dad thought he understood the meaning of that. Truth was, he and Cassie didn't have sex until the second week of their relationship, and for Dean Winchester that was akin to an eternity. He had never dated a girl for more than a night or two and when he did "date" it had nothing to do with movies and conversation and all to do with carnal delight.

In between hunting the ghosts, talking to the towns people, and researching, he and Cassie went to movies, walks through campus, even went to a dance that was being put on by the local fire department. He did things with her that he wouldn't ever have done for anyone else in the world. He did things that made him uncomfortable and he tried to make her proud of him. Sam had reminded him when they were younger that he was uncouth and Dean tried to be as good as possible. He didn't want her to leave him like he was afraid she would, so he did his best not to give her a reason to. He had fallen in love with her. Dean Winchester, fighter of all things supernatural, had fallen in love.

His mistake didn't come with his table manners, or the way he dressed, it came with his honesty. After he and his dad had taken care of the nasty ghosts he went over to Cassie's to tell her that he was moving on to another town and that he would like to keep in touch with her, and maybe when she graduated that she would come on the road with him and his dad and she could do freelance work or something while she was with him. He had all of these scenarios in his head. He saw her on the road with him, being his partner and loving him, her making legitimate money and being proud to be with a man who saved innocent lives. Maybe even proud enough to marry him and want to have his children.

All of those hopes and dreams swirled around his head when he knocked on her door. They weren't dashed as she opened the door to her dorm and she gasped at the sight of him. He had just finished the job and the ghost had thrown him around, his jaw was bruised and he had a ghostly hand print on his bicep but nothing really major. Nothing was broken and nothing bled so it had been a successful hunt.

"What happened?" she asked and softly touched the bruise on his jaw. He smiled and pulled her hand away.

"Can we go elsewhere to talk?" She nodded, worry in her eyes.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked.

"I don't really care as long as we can talk in private." He said with a shrug. She nodded, grabbed her coat, took his hand, and led him out of the dorm. They walked in silence, holding hands, Dean enjoying her company, and Cassie worrying and wondering what was going on. The secluded spot wasn't hard to find and she sat him down and he turned to face her.

"What happened to your face Dean?"

"Don't want these good looks marred do you?" he wagged his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes.

"No, I want to know what happened."

"Cassie," he mumbled 'oh god' under his breath before continuing. This was going to be harder than he thought to tell her. He suddenly wondered if she would believe him. He tramped that voice down and focused on the dreams he had. "I really like you." He hesitated and decided that using the word "love" would be risking too much at this juncture. "Cassie, I need to leave."

"But we just got here."

"No. My dad and I. We need to leave Ohio. Our next job is taking us to Arkansas."

"Stay."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"No, I can't"

"You can get a job here. What did you say you and your dad did again?"

"I didn't."

"Well, what is it? Maybe I can help you find somewhere else to work."

"I hunt ghosts with my dad."

"Dean, come on. That is crap and you know it."

"It isn't crap Cassie. My dad and I hunt supernatural, nightmare things. That's what I do. And it isn't' like you can just look in the want adds for a ghost hunter. It doesn't' work that way." Her eyes held disbelief the same way they showed joy. His heart hitched. He had to get her to believe him. "That house on Martin Street. The one the local legend says is haunted. Well my dad and I took care of that last night. That's where I got this bruise." He indicated the one on his chin. "The ghost threw me against the wall and I landed wrong."

"Dean…this is crap. If you don't want to be honest with me just say so." She said and stood.

"Cassie. I'm being honest. This is what I've done my whole life. I have to do this. I don't have a choice."

"But you said your brother was at Stanford."

"He is, what does that have to do with anything.?"

"If your brother had a choice than so did you. You're just feeding me a line of bull shit. You can't possibly hunt ghosts, there is no such thing. You are a freaking lunatic if you believe that. You are just trying to.." she trailed off and turned.

"Cassie!" he yelled when he saw her start to turn away.

"Stay away from me." she yelled over her shoulder and just like that, one more person walked out of his life. One more person had somewhere better to be. He sat back down on the bench and put his face in his hands. He had done everything wrong. He had allowed his heart to be put on the line, he had dreams for the future that weren't filled with the night and what inhabited it, he told the family secret and he had trusted someone outside of the hunting community. He should have known better. His cell rang and he answered without conscious thought.

"Yeah?"

"Dean, get your ass back to the motel we need to leave."

"Be right there Dad." He said and snapped the phone shut. He took one last look in the direction Cassie walked, tucked his heart away, ignored his dreams, and strode in the direction of his car and back to the life that, while ensured others were able to live long and happy lives, ensured Dean Winchester to a life of sadness.


	28. Fact VS Fiction

Light blinked inside the big SUV as the young adults drove through the forested region. Holes in the foliage allowed the light through, but the real spectacular sight was the trees themselves. Tall, lush and green, standing tall and proud against the blue sky, branches bending slightly in the wind and the leaves making a lazy rustle. The windows were down and Jessica's long curly blonde hair flew into his face, tickling his nose.

"Sorry." She said sheepishly and pulled her hair out of his face. She started to pull her hair back into a rubber band and he stopped her. Took the tie out of her hand and encouraged her to lay her head back down on his shoulder.

"No, don't move. You're fine. I kinda like having your hair in my face. It smells nice. Flowery."

"Flowery?" She asked amused and laid her head back down on his shoulder.

"You have to give me a break Jess, I didn't have a female presence in my life growing up, just two very big, jocks. Their idea of a good smells were warm car oil, gasoline, and beer."

"That what your dad and Dean do? They mechanics?" His hand stilled in her hair. She didn't look up; she kept her head down, her body tense, hoping that he would share a little bit about his life before Stanford other than an occasional story about "Uncle Bobby". His silence was heavy; the sounds of the conversation in the front of the car even seemed softer with Sam's silence. The stilled hand in her hair suddenly felt heavy.

"Don't Jess." He said softly. "I don't want to talk about them." She gritted her teeth; he shut her down every single time she tried to talk about his family. She had gotten a thing or two out about Dean before spring break, but now, he wouldn't say anything about Dean especially and he still wouldn't talk about his dad. The father had always been a subject that was off limits, and now that off limits sign was bigger and brighter, and there seemed to be a fence surrounding it with a guard dog growling in the background. She, like always, let it go.

When she had met Dean for that brief moment last Thanksgiving, he didn't seem like a bad person, he looked normal, hell he had been gorgeous, much like his brother. He was definitely more rugged. More blue collar and definitely not someone you would see around Stanford, but he didn't seem like someone you would be afraid to let out of the family dirty secret closet. He wasn't drooling and clapping his hands at nothing, and talking to the spots on the wall, he seemed really put together, and hurt. She had definitely noted the hurt surrounded the older man. Sometimes, she wondered if any of that hurt was her Sam's fault. Her thoughts were interrupted when he started stroking her hair again. Obviously he had relaxed, she was grateful for that. A tense Sam was a disturbing Sam.

When Kyle pulled off of the main road onto a gravel one, Jessica sat up. "We there Kyle?" she asked. Kyle's girlfriend, Samantha, turned around and smiled.

"Yeah we are." The SUV pulled to a stop in front of a cabin that reminded Sam of many they had squatted in as children, waiting for their father to come home from a hunt, drunk and so whacked out of his mind that the most he could do was sit down and stare at a wall. Dean always tucked Sam into bed and went to deal with their father. Sometimes, Sam had snuck out of his bed and through a crack in the door had watched as his brother unlaced his father's boots, took the bottle of whatever liquor he had out of his hands, and put a reassuring hand on his father's shoulder and said "It's okay Dad. You got them. It's one step closer to getting the thing that killed Mom."

Sam shook the cobwebs from his head and got out of the SUV, another car pulled up behind them and another couple of friends got out. Sam smiled and pulled his and Jessica's bag out of the backseat of the car and shut the door.

They greeted the new couple and Kyle led the small group of young people into the cabin. While the outside had reminded Sam of the cabins they had squatted in, the inside was something out of the pages of a magazine. Pristine surfaces, two large couches, cluttered with pillows, a fireplace, and a kitchen off to the side. A kitchen equipped with modern conveniences like a refrigerator and a stove. There would definitely be no need to go fishing in a nearby stream, and most certainly no need to cook the fish that were caught on a stick in a fire built out of whatever wood was easiest to obtain. That realization sort of panged at Sam's heart. Those were some of the good memories of his childhood. He knew now, that Dean had probably been scared to death when he realized there wasn't enough food, or that he didn't have a means of keeping milk cold and that fish needed to be cooked yet he didn't have a stove to cook them on. But Dean, Dean had always made sure that little Sammy was fed and cared for, he never let his fear show to his little brother. Now that Sam was older, he wondered just how terrified Dean had really been.

The cars were unpacked, coolers taken care of, refrigerator stocked with enough food to feed a small army, and the bags had been put in the rooms and the girls were in there getting the rooms ready. Sam went upstairs and found Jessica putting her clothes into a dresser.

"I put your shaving stuff in the bathroom, your clothes are in the drawer next to mine."

"Jess, we are only staying for a week."

"I know, but it is a romantic get away, we shouldn't have to worry about where our socks are." Sam smiled and ran his hands up and down her arms. They looked at themselves in the mirror, Sam standing behind her. They were a beautiful couple. Sam knew then that he wanted to marry this girl. When they got back to Stanford he was going to shop for rings. It was time to take another step in getting the normal life he wanted.

Dinner was fun. There was a lot of food that was prepared by girls who were more used to professionals cooking for them than actually cooking themselves, so what had been prepared looked like it was thrown together by a cook who didn't quite know what to make so they just made sides. Rice, potatoes, vegetables, apple sauce, and oddly enough a cake. The food albeit odd was really good. But the food wasn't the reason any of them enjoyed the meal, the conversation had been fun and pleasant and solidified the group even more so as friends.

The conversation took them late into the evening and they only quitted the table when Kyle and Zach announced that their asses were numb and they wanted to get out of the hard wood chairs. It was decided that the dishes could wait until morning, and Zach said that they needed a fire in the fire place. The girls reminded him that it was June and he said that they could turn on the air conditioner. The girls laughed at him and it was decided that they would put candles in the fireplace to simulate a fire and they all got themselves situated in the living room. Jessica sat in front of Sam, leaned into his chest and enjoyed the solidness of his frame and the strength in the arms that surrounded her.

"I think we should turn off the lights and tell ghost stories." Emily said snuggling closer to Zach. A resounding "yeah" was heard from the group. Sam inwardly groaned. He really hated ghost stories. He really hated everything to do with ghosts, ghouls and urban legends. While the rest of them pretended these things existed, Sam pretended that they didn't exist and throw very sold, very stubborn, very much live brothers into walls, or break his ribs, or slash him up.

The fist story, that Zach told, was lame. It was actually something he had watched, that they all had watched, and he ended up with pillows in his face for his efforts. Kyle was next and he managed a semi original tale that didn't scare anyone, they had it figured out before he finished the first three sentences, because he emphasized the name of the killer like an idiot.

"Okay, Sam see if you can do any better." Kyle said with a smirk.

"Nah. I don't know any."

"Come on, don't be a spoil sport." Samantha added.

"Look at your girlfriend you can't deny that face." Emily included. And sure enough when he looked down he found Jessica's face in a pout. He rolled his eyes, sighed and resettled and finally said 'okay'.

He licked his lips trying to think of something. "Well," he started, licked his lips again. "Once there was this guy. Just your regular average nobody. But he was someone. He saved lives for a living. Not the kind of living where you get paid, but the kind of living you made when you knew you made a difference."

"And we all know that kind of living ain't worth squat." Kyle said jokingly. Samantha hit him in the face with the pillow.

"Come on. This guy sounds noble. Sounds like a hero. So much more interesting than the chick clad in nothing but a bikini that you were telling us about." Kyle snickered. "Go on Sam tell the story."

Sam licked his lips again, Jessica wondered briefly why this story was making him nervous."No one ever thanked him, or even knew his name, but he saved their lives from things that go bump in the night. Well, one day he pulled up in this car that was so precious to him that its paint job gleamed in the moonlight-"

"What kind of car is it?" Zach asked.

"A muscle car. I don't know. Just a really cool old car." Sam hedged. "Anyway, he pulled up to this house that looked like it hadn't been lived in for years. He had heard that several teenagers had died in the house and no one could figure out what exactly killed them. This guy.."

"What's his name?" Emily asked.

"Michael." Sam said quickly. "Michael had done some research and found that every 20 years someone was killed in this house. He armed himself with a gun filled with rock salt…"

"Rock salt?" Jessica asked.

"Symbol of purity, it gets rid of evil." Jessica nodded. "He went inside. He went looking for this ghost, because he couldn't let anyone else die the way his mom had been killed. Couldn't let anyone else go through the hell he had his whole life. Unfortunately, the ghost found him first. It threw him against the door, he hit his head hard. He didn't loose consciousness, he forced himself to stand, and he found the ghost, shot the gun, but he missed, the ghost tossed him around some more, before putting her hand inside his chest and clutching his heart, stopping it. He died. This hero. The ghost claimed one more victim. It was years before anyone found Michael's body. His family, what was left, had abandoned him and no one thought to look for him. He died, saving someone he didn't know and no one was there to thank him. No one was even there to give him a proper burial. He simply ceased to exist." Sam ended his story and a stunned hush filled the room.

"Law? You chose law?" Zach finally said breaking the tension. "Dude you should have done creative writing. That was the most depressing story I've ever heard."

"But it wasn't scary either." Kyle jumped in.

"It was scarier than yours." Emily said jauntily.

"At least his had a ghost in it." Jessica said in defense.

Sam looked up at his friends, the friends he had fought for, lost his father over, and finally his brother. He thought of his brother lying in an abandoned house, he wondered if anyone would go looking for him. What a way to live a life. No one around to notice you were missing. Dean had made that particular scene for himself, Sam decided. He had been the one to tell Sam that he didn't want to ever see him again. But somewhere deep in the back of his mind he heard himself say, "only after you made it clear what was more important."

Jessica watched the emotions play across Sam's face and realized that Michael was someone that Sam cared about, she wondered if that was Dean. She wondered just how much of that story was truth and how much was fiction.


	29. Checking In

The ghost story about the man left alone, haunted Jessica more than she would ever tell Sam. She chastised him for scaring her and he smiled, hugged her, told her that it was just a ghost story and that ghosts weren't real, but something in the way he said it made her wonder if he was telling her the truth.

Two nights later, unable to contain her worry and curiosity, she slipped out of bed when she heard Sam make the noise that indicated he had fallen into a deep sleep, took his cell phone off of the dresser, grabbed a blanket from the floor and went outside, and sat on the rocking chair on the porch. Biting her lip, she looked at the phone and felt the weight of what she was about to do land squarely on her shoulders. If Sam found out, he would be furious. Under no terms short of death, was anyone supposed to contact his family.

Turning on the phone was the first step to violating Sam's privacy, scrolling through the contacts was the second violation, and the final violation and quite possibly one that would result in his anger and even his distrust of her from there on out was when she clicked on the name Dean, put the phone to her ear and waited for an answer.

Dean was in a motel room bathroom trying to figure out the least painful way to strip his tee shirt off of the shoulder that had been bitten by the sea creature that he had been hunting. That thing had had some sharp assed teeth. He was lucky to get out of it alive. The fugly thing at least had been killed and no one else was going to be hurt because of it.

Sighing, he looked at himself in the mirror and continued the debate regarding the removal of his shirt. Raising his arms was out of the question, and doing it one shouldered was impossible, he sighed, the only way he was going to get out of the shirt was if he cut it. He really didn't' want to lose another shirt, but he didn't' see any other way. Times like this he missed Sam, times like this, he wished he was a car mechanic back in Lawrence. Car mechanics didn't have to worry about getting their shirts off without damaging a wound any more than it already was. They went home to their families and had dinner, worried about paying the bills, getting the grease out from underneath their fingernails, and putting their babies to bed at night. He sighed, went into the main room, dug in the first aid kit and got the scissors and went back into the bathroom.

The first snip into the fabric was interrupted by his cell phone. He looked at the screen and his heart skipped a beat when he read the word "Sam"

"Sammy are you hurt? You okay?" he asked immediately forgetting the blood trickling down his chest and back.

"Sam's fine." Came a decidedly not Sam voice.

"Who is this?" he asked, suspicion taking the place of the worry. Something sinister could have his brother and could be toying with him.

"This is Jessica Moore. Sam's girlfriend." Now he was simply confused. Why in the hell would this girl, this completely normal, sane girl be calling him? If Sam wasn't hurt or dead there was no reason.

"What can I do for you?" he asked trying to sound neutral and not like he was in excruciating pain. He turned the phone onto speaker, set it down, and went back to work cutting his shirt left handed.

"Ummm. I'm not sure exactly." She said with a nervous giggle. That made him stop in his tracks. Maybe this girl wasn't so sane after all.

"Then, I don't think you should be calling me. I mean Sammy would probably be pretty mad."

"Yes, actually I know that." He heard her sigh. "But, he said something the other night, that bothered me, because I think it is bothering him.." she stopped.

"What does this have to do with me?" he asked trying to swallow the scream as he pulled the fabric away from his shoulder. He took a deep breath and then tried to control the pain and his rapid breathing. He didn't want to get Jessica curious.

"I need to know what happened over spring break." Dean stilled.

"What do you know about it?"

"I know that he came back and changed soap and shampoo and is very tight lipped about it. He said he saw you but that was about it." Dean took a deep breath and poured peroxide into the bites he could see on his chest, clenched his teeth and managed to keep the string of cuss words inside. "Dean? Are you there?"

"I'm here." He said in what he hoped passed for his normal voice.

"What happened?"

"I told him I didn't want to see him again." Dean said and took a deep breath and poured peroxide down his back hoping to get all of the wounds on the part of his shoulder he couldn't see.

"What do you mean you told him you didn't want to see him again?"

"It's a long story." He said through gritted teeth.

"Sam is a wonderful person. A good man. How can you not want him around?"

"I know that Sam is a good man. I've always known that." He said as his chest heaved with the last bits of pain that were coursing through his nervous system.

"Then I don't understand."

"He doesn't need to be around me. It's a long story Jessica, one that I can't completely explain to you."

"Start talking."

"You are a demanding chick."

"Yes I am." He sighed and started wiping the blood from his chest and shoulder.

"Things happen to me. Dangerous things, I can't have Sammy around that. I can't have him hurt. I would rather push him away, let him be where he really wants to be, and that is with you and at Stanford, then be with me and possibly get hurt or die."

"Shouldn't it be his choice?"

"He made that choice three years ago, I just made sure he sticks with it."

"It hurt him." That injured Dean more than the bite on his shoulder.

"It hurt me too. I'm just doing what is best for him."

"And you are sure that this is best for him?"

"I'm his big brother. I always know what is best for him."

"I don't think that's true." He stood there startled. He never doubted for a second that telling Sam he didn't want to see him again was the best course of action, and here this girl was, this girl he didn't even know, telling him that he was wrong. Who was she? Who did she think she was? He knew Sammy for 18 years, she knew him for what 3?

"Listen. I've known my brother his whole life. I think I know what's best."

"But I've been with him almost every day for the last three and I know you're wrong." Dean was speechless. She trumped him on his own brother. Jessica heard rustling. "I have to go, I think Sam is up." she said. "Be careful Dean. I don't know what cut you today, but you sound like you are in pain. Take an aspirin, if you need him, call him. Don't let yourself be in pain or scared alone. I'm glad we talked." She paused before asking, "Is your middle name Michael?"

"Yeah." He asked confused. Her suspicions confirmed she turned off the phone without saying good bye. Dean looked up into the mirror, saw his freckles standing out darkly against his grey skin. Maybe she was right. Maybe that was why his gut didn't feel right. God, he screwed up and he would never get to see his little brother again.

"Who were you talking to?" Sam asked slipping into the seat beside her. She smiled.

"My phone died and I wanted to check in with my mom and sister." Sam nodded and hugged her, wishing that he could call and check in with his brother.

* * *

A/N Request: I am going to do two more one shots before they get back together in the pilot. Anyone have a request for waht they would like to see happen to Sam and Dean?


	30. College Boy

A/N: Thanks to Adder for the idea!

* * *

Dean rolled into Palo Alto, shortly after five, and checked into a motel not to far from Sam's off campus apartment in which he lived with Jessica. His next order of business was to find a thrift shop, which hadn't been difficult. What had been difficult was figuring out what exactly AF stood for and why someone would want that emblazoned on their t-shirt. In passing he wondered if that stood for their two options in college, A or F? Maybe it wasn't like high school and they skipped the other letters. He would have to check with Bobby on that. He had no basis for comparison actually, he knew Sam's grades, knew them like the back of his hand, he had paid handsomely for a hunter to hack into Stanford records and get a copy of each one of Sam's report cards. So, from his experience with Stanford, they only gave out As. So, who knew?

One thing he did learn quickly that night was that clothes with AF branded on them, even second hand, were expensive. But he had to blend in. He didn't want Sam to catch him here. Didn't want it to become a scene, because his baby brother, no matter what, was someone who handled his emotions dead on, and if he saw Dean, especially after what Dean had said to him, he would be nose to chin with one very very pissed off Sam Winchester, and that wasn't the reason he was here. He just wanted to see and make sure Sam was okay.

The next morning, he pulled on the shirt with AF on it, the pair of jeans that originally cost more than all of the clothes he had had in his lifetime combined, threw on a pair of sneakers, and tried to do his hair more in the unkempt style that he had observed at the coffee shop he had gone to last night to people watch. He threw a book bag over his shoulder that contained his hunting journal, a pen and one book, which could resemble a text book and headed out of the motel room.

It didn't take long for Sam to come out of his building; his first class was at 8 AM. Dean had briefly wondered what in the world had possessed his little brother to take a class that early in the morning that was just cruel and unusual punishment in his book.

Dean realized that his brother took some really hard classes; the first one had been a pre law class that he thought was criminal law. It was really interesting, and he was actually sort of upset when the class ended, he shook himself out of the thought and pretended to be getting something into his book bag when Sam walked by chatting with a group of guys that were just as geeky as he was.

Sam had four classes that day. He always sat in the front, always answered questions, always asked questions, and always had a group of people around that smiled and laughed when he talked, and Sam did the same when they talked. Dean was so proud that his baby brother had found a place for himself, a place away from hunting, a place where there were lots of people who loved his company and enjoyed spending their time with him.

Dean knew first hand what it felt like not to be able to make friends, and he never wished that upon anyone, least of all Sam. It was never fun to be the one who sat alone in the back of a classroom, who stayed in at recess because no one would play with him, or to sit in the cafeteria alone, except for the skanky girls who thought he was just as easy of a lay as they were. He was glad that Sam had friends, had a girlfriend, had the life he always wanted.

After school, Sam went back to his apartment, ate, Dean assumed, and came back out an hour later and headed to the campus library. _Figures he would go spend like five hours in class and then go to the library and spend even more time studying what he just learned_. Dean laughed to himself. He followed, and was surprised to find Sam put a lanyard embossed with "Sam" around his neck. Sam worked there. Dean smiled. Sam had never liked that Dean hustled money or that their dad did the whole credit card fraud thing. It made sense that Sam would earn his rent money honestly. Sam worked the circulation desk so observing him wasn't difficult.

Dean ended his shift when Sam did. Sam was quite a bit a head of him and Dean stopped muttered under his breath, "Glad you're doing well." And turned in the opposite direction.

* * *

Dean had trained Sam way too well for him not to notice that someone had been following him all day. He turned around once during his criminal law class and found Dean sitting in the back in rapt attention. Sam had been shocked. He thought Dean's last message had been clear, no little brothers needed. But there he was, wearing something decidedly NOT Dean, and paying attention to Sam's teacher. After that, the rest of the day felt more comfortable. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt more relaxed than he had since he started Stanford. He felt like Dean was watching his back just like he used to and that Sam didn't have to be on hyper alert all day. It was nice, he had missed that comfort.

Usually he didn't go out on Friday nights, because he was way too tired from such a long week, but tonight, when his friends asked him like they did every week, he said that he would. He wasn't tired today. He hadn't spent an entire day trying to learn and watching his back, he could go out and have a good time with his friends.

Kyle was the one who waited for him while he and Jessica got ready, when they got there, their friends were already sitting at a table, alcohol consumption evident all around them.

"Hey!" Sam said as he pulled Jessica's chair out for her. Dean had taught him how to be a gentleman to a lady, even though Sam wondered where exactly Dean had learned it, because as far as he knew Dean had never had occasion to pull a chair out for a lady. Pleasantries were exchanged and a few regular topics discussed when the door opened and a man wearing a leather jacket, a black t-shirt and ripped jeans entered. Sam's eyes widened. Dean had just entered a college bar.

"He's hott." Amy said eyeing Dean's travel from the door to the bar where he sat down, back to the crowd.

"Bet he doesn't have a third grade education." Molly chimed in, that smile that said she just wanted to eat him up for the night graced her face.

"Oh, honey he doesn't even have to speak." Amy laughed.

"That is so true." Jessica turned and noted that it was Dean. She looked at Sam who was trying to smile but she saw right through his tight lipped smile.

"I'm willing to bet he is smart."

"I bet he was a high school jock that is so past his prime, works at a mechanic shop and comes to bars like this trying to look for some young rich girl for the night. You know, someone to pay his tab and a little something extra on the side." Molly said before taking another pull from her beer.

"Or, he could be a guy who really loves his family, who is lonely, and just wants to be around people." Jessica shrugged.

"Well, if he loves his family why isn't he there?"

"Maybe his family doesn't live here any more. I mean look at us, we aren't with our families, doesn't mean we don't love them."

"Still doesn't' mean he belongs here. There's a bar at the other end of town that is more suited for his kind." Landon, Amy's boyfriend, added.

"Guys, leave it alone." Sam said.

"Always the peace maker." Robert said. _I didn't use to be. I used to be the one who caused the whole mess in the first place._ Sam thought and looked at his brother again. He really did look sad and alone. Or maybe Sam was just projecting. Everyone had moved onto a different topic by the time Dean got up from his stool. Sam watched surreptitiously as Dean paid for his drink and started out. He caught Sam's eye and Sam nodded, Dean gave a brief nod back and left Sammy to his friends.


	31. Hospital

A/N: Thanks to PurpleSpinx for the idea. This will have a companion chapter, but after that we are pretty much going to land ourselves into "Pilot" territory.

* * *

"All right, all right, I'm coming." Bobby muttered as he searched for his phone, the cell phone that Dean had suggested he buy a couple of months ago. It was small and it hid. That stupid thing could be heard for miles, but it got lost way too easily. He would have to have a conversation with Dean on the advantages of phones that stayed in one place, fastened to the wall, and had a cord that could stretch for miles. Yes, those were the kinds of phones he liked. Ones that he could find. Not like the one that could be anywhere, from his pocket, to under sheets of research, to underneath his bed, or even the refrigerator, he still swore it ended up there last time because he had a ghost. Not that he could find the ghost, but it made him feel better to think that rather than he was so absent minded one afternoon that he had put the little thing inside the refrigerator.

Cell found under a pile of paper, he flipped it open, still not so sure on how the stupid thing worked and said, "Yeah?"

"Bo.." the voice started.

"Hello?" he tried again his senses a little sharper.

"Bobby." Whispered a voice on the other end.

"Dean?" he tried.

"Help." He said louder than the hunter's name. Bobby's heart sank down to his stomach. Dean never called anyone for help.

"Where are you?" It took Dean a second or two, which ticked by like eternity for Bobby, and he gave him directions to where he was. He told the boy to hang on, and called 9-1-1 and told the dispatcher where Dean was, they instructed him as to what hospital they would be taking him.

Bobby threw his stuff together, grabbed the infuriating little phone and was on the road quicker than you could say Bobby Singer. Bobby wasn't too far away from Dean, he was surprised that there had been a hunt so close to his home and he hadn't known about it.

His cell rang. It startled him. He answered it. "Bobby?" came the healthy strong voice of Sam Winchester. He had forgotten that he was spending the long weekend with him. "Where are you? Jess and I are here."

"Your brother is hurt, called for help. He doesn't sound good."

"Where is he?" Bobby gave him the name of the hospital. "We'll be there." Sam hung up his cell and looked at Jessica. "We have to go to the hospital about two hours south of here." Jessica's eyes widened.

"What happened?"

"I don't' know. My brother is hurt real bad. He never calls for help." Jessica hurried over to the rental car they had gotten and got inside, Sam was almost down the long driveway before she got her door shut. "Dean can have his arm almost ripped off but he doesn't need help. Nope, the stubborn bastard never needs help." Jessica put her hand on Sam's arm and felt the tightly coiled muscles. She had seen him nervous but never scared.

"He'll be okay Sam."

"How do you know?"

"I just have a feeling. You once said, that he raised you, right?" Sam nodded. "If he managed to raise someone as strong and independent as you, then he must be very similar."

"He's stronger than I am." Sam managed.

"Then he'll be fine."

They arrived at the hospital and Sam dashed in and found Bobby in the emergency room waiting room.

"How is he?"

"I don't know. The doctor hasn't come out to talk to me yet." Jessica sat down next to Bobby and ran a hand down the older man's arm. She knew how much Dean meant to him. The last time she and Sam had stayed with the older man, they had talked when Sam went to bed. Bobby told her about when they boys were little and how Dean used to stick to Sam like glue, how school was almost unbearable for the elder because he couldn't keep an eye on his little brother at all times.

He told her of the boys teenage years and how Dean had poked fun at Sam when he wanted to go to prom, laughed when Sam told him how much a tux would cost, but left the money for the rental on the night stand without saying anything, how Dean had made fun of him for dressing up like a monkey but helped him tie his tie when Sam's hands were too shaky to get the knot right, and Dean had gone on and on about how much a waste of money prom was and why do you need to take a girl out for a big dinner just so you can dance with her a couple of songs? But he had left money inside his brother's pocket. Bobby had also shared some stories of Dean working with him in the shop, had accidentally expressed just how much affection for the boy he had, how he felt sort of like he was his son, the only son he would ever have.

"He'll be okay, he's strong." She said and hugged Bobby a little.

"I hope so." A doctor came out and looked around. Bobby straightened and Sam stiffened.

"Are you the family for Dean Winchester?"

"I'm his brother." Sam volunteered quickly. "Is he okay?"

"He's lost a lot of blood and we've had to call the blood bank in the next city, it's an hour's drive, we are just too small a facility to carry his blood type.

"What about.." Bobby didn't have a chance to finish the sentence.

"I'm a match. My brother and I have the same blood type." Sam said quickly.

"That will most certainly help us. Come on back." Sam went back and donated as much blood as they would let him; they also allowed him back into the room while they hooked it into Dean. Sam watched as his blood dripped into his brother's body, thankful that he had been able to help.

"Come on Dean. Come on. I need you around." Sam evaluated the cuts on his brother's face and arms, and knew that there must be one hell of a wound elsewhere in order for him to have lost so much blood, and he cursed himself for not being at his brother's back in order to keep him safe. He thought about his brother's last words to him "I don't need you." He had said. Right now Dean proved his own words wrong.

Sam fell asleep with his head on the bed in which Dean was sleeping. He awoke to hands on his hair. He looked up and Dean's eyes were open.

"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.

"You were hurt."

"I don't want you here." Sam's heart stilled.

"Dean…"

"Go, go back with Jessica to California. I don't want you here."

"But."

"No buts. Go. Go away. I don't want you." He kept repeating that he didn't want him.

"You may not want me, but you need me."

"I don't need you either."

"Yes you do. You have my blood running through your veins now."

"I don't care."

"It's one of the reasons you are alive."

"When my time comes, it comes. Go back home Sam. Go. Go away." Dean turned his face from his brother's and effectively cut off all communication. Tears streamed down his face. Anger burned his face and he stormed out of the room. In the waiting room he grabbed Jessica's arm.

"Come on. He doesn't want me." Jessica gave Bobby one last confused look before she was dragged out of the hospital by her arm. Bobby stood, mouth agape, confused and worried.


	32. Figuring Out Dean Winchester

Bobby had tried to reason with the stubborn assed Winchester, but all he managed to get were his packing orders. Dean didn't want him or Sam anywhere near him. He hadn't wanted to leave his side but Dean turned on his side, facing the wall and ignored Bobby until he left. He hated seeing the boy in such pain, but the boy was an adult and if he wanted to be left completely alone, who was he to change that. He wasn't the boy's father, no matter how much he wished he was.

The next morning when he called to check on Dean, he found that the boy had signed himself out AMA. They had no idea where he went, but they were definitely concerned for his safety.

"How is he?" Sam tried to ask casually when Bobby hung up the phone.

"He signed himself out AMA. They don't' know where he went, but they most certainly don't think it was a good idea that he left." Sam sighed deeply and stood up.

"He's a big boy Bobby."

"Sam." Jessica tried to soothe.

"No, Jess, it's his problem. If he wants to be a stubborn ass, that is his problem. If he doesn't want anything to do with me, then I don't want anything to do with him." He stormed out of the kitchen and the door slammed behind him. Jessica shook her head and looked at the older man.

"What is wrong with the two of them?" she asked with tears in her eyes. "Why are they both so stubborn?"

"Young lady I have absolutely no idea." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Sam is hurting so much."

"Dean is as well."

"Then why?"

"Sam left."

"That was so long ago. Dean should be so proud of him….hell he was at a bar that Sam and I frequent. I saw him. I know Sam saw him. He must have been checking up on him. But he never came up to us. Never came up and asked if he could join us."

"What do you know about Dean?"

"Not a lot." She admitted. "I know that he is gruff. He thinks he knows exactly what Sam needs. And I know what you have told me about him." She said, picked up Sam's breakfast plate, Bobby's and her own and went to the sink.

"Dean is pretty certain that he doesn't fit with you or Sam and his friends."

"But…" She thought back to what their friends had said about Dean. "He's right." She said softly. "They saw him and they said that he probably didn't have a third grade education."

"He does have that. He's smart. Don't ever let him fool you. But he doesn't have Sam's smarts. He can build you a car from scratch, he can fix damn near anything, but he can't tell you who wrote Canterbury Tales, or who the great philosophers are."

"Sam can't work the remote half of the time." She laughed.

"My point. Sam doesn't see that Dean wouldn't have the social skills to fit in with your friends. Dean is gruff. He is uncouth. But he is honorable. He would treat any woman with respect, I remember when he taught Sam that opening doors for girls was the right thing to do." Jessica smiled.

"Yeah, Sam always opens doors for me. Treats me tenderly. He is a very loving man."

"Dean is too, he just doesn't always know how to express it. His way of expressing it is doing things for people. Sacrificing things for others. And, sadly, he thinks sacrificing his little brother is what will keep him happy and safe."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It does to Dean Winchester."

"But…"

"He wants Sam to have what he couldn't have. And, to him, this is the only way he knows how to make sure of it."

"That's stupid."

"It may be. But if Sam is angry with him he won't come looking for him. Dean is banking on that." Jessica rinsed the last dish and wiped her hands on the towel.

"Why does he think he is such a danger to Sam?"

"That, young lady, is something that you need to discuss with Sam." She sighed. There were so many walls in this family. Just once she would like to find the door and be allowed admittance. She worried at her bottom lip, maybe she would have to have another chat with Dean Winchester.


	33. Gut Wound

They went back to Stanford and Sam was in a funk for a couple of days and then, he turned right around and was happy Sam again, he never told anyone back home what happened to his brother. Come to think of it, he never mentioned Dean unless she brought him up.

"Sam?" Jessica said casually.

"Yeah babe?"

"My sister called earlier, and I'm gonna go back home next weekend, she wants some sister time." She sat on his lap, wrapped her arms around him and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Okay." He smiled.

"Will you be okay without me?"

"I'll just have to manage." She smiled, buried her head into his neck and felt just a hint of regret for what she was really going to do.

It took some weaseling on her part to get the location of Dean Winchester out of Bobby Singer. He begrudgingly gave her the name of the motel and what room he was in, Jessica could be very persuasive when she wanted to be. She drove up to the motel in question. It was run down and the people walking around the area looked a little scary and a few marble shy. She couldn't figure out for the life of her why Sam's brother would be staying here. Forcing herself to look for Dean, she found the car that even Sam talked about, sitting in the parking lot, close to the room number in which Bobby had given her. She parked beside the car, got out, gathered her courage, and went to the door and knocked. Looking down she realized that there was blood on the door knob. Her heart went into her throat, panic set in. It hadn't been that long since Dean was in the hospital, what if something had happened to him. What if he died and Sam never knew? That would kill Sam. She twisted the knob and found that it was open. She pushed the door swung inward on its hinges, it was dark. She turned on the lights and found Dean sitting beside one of the double beds, clutching his stomach, blood seeping from in between his fingers.

"Dean!" she yelled and knelt down in front of her.

"Jessica?" he asked breathlessly.

"What happened?"

"Doesn't' matter."

"Like hell it doesn't' matter. Let me take you to the hospital."

"No!" he said loudly and with force. "No." he repeated. "Just need stitches. Can do that myself."

"What? Do you have a medical degree that I don't know about?" she asked and dug in her purse for her cell phone. She got it out and Dean knocked it out of her hand.

"I said no hospital." She looked him in his eyes and they were serious. "In my car. Back seat. I have a first aid kit. You can get it, and go back to Stanford. Sammy needs you."

"Screw what Sammy needs." She said and took the keys he offered and hurried to the car, and found the first aid kit, ran back inside, put the kit beside him, went to the bathroom and looked for something to wash his stomach, and something to hold water. She came back with every towel that was in the room, and a coffee pot full of hot water. He had struggled to get his coat off, and was struggled to get his top button down off.

"Here, let me." she said and took over taking off his shirt. Then she looked in the kit for scissors. She cut away the bloodied tee shirt, took a towel and put it in the hot water and gently wiped away the blood. Dean was too humiliated and in too much pain to say anything. He had to admit that it felt nice for someone to touch him tenderly and not expect anything in return, or just out of the kindness of their heart, and not because it is their job.

"How do you stitch this up?" Jessica asked bravely.

"Give me a bottle of jack and sew me up like you would a sock." Jessica didn't like how he said that. Didn't like that she was sitting in a motel room that was falling apart, and she was sewing up the love of her life's brother. A brother that seemed hell bent on keeping his little brother away from him. He took a couple of swigs of the drink and she began to sew him up.

"So, why aren't you with Sam?" Grunt from Dean.

"Because I'm not his people."

"What are you talking about?" she asked as she pulled the one stitch tighter than the other one.

"He has you and all of his friends at Stanford."

"But he misses you."

"Look Jessica, there are things about our family that I don't want to tell you. If Sam wants to that is his thing, but I'm not going to be the one to tell you. Just know that it is dangerous."

"I see that." She said and tied off the last of the stitches. She ripped the rest of his shirt away from his chest and marveled at the number of scars. He turned away. She touched one that was especially nasty. He grabbed her hand and gently moved it away from his chest.

"Don't." he whispered. There was a reason he sought drunk girls. They never asked about the scars. They never cared. But Jessica was a good girl, a respectable girl, a girl that someone, like his brother, could and would marry and he couldn't have her touching them.

"Dean." She started. "Where's your dad? Sam said that you two were together."

"Help me up." Dean said as a way of avoiding the question. She did, and helped him into the bed, took his boots off, and then grabbed the blanket from the other bed and put it over him. Dean's embarrassment grew with each tender ministration she performed. She took a seat next to him. He felt the bed sag and heard her shoes drop on the floor. She touched his hair gently and then ran a hand through it.

"You don't have to." He started.

"I want to. You shouldn't be left alone with armature stitches in your belly and no one to comfort you."

"It's no big deal. It happens a lot. It won't be the last time either."

"Where is your dad?" she asked again.

"I don't know." he said after a lengthy pause. "He ditched me. I keep trying to call him but he won't answer. I guess he didn't need me either."

"Either?"

"Nothing."

"No. No. Talk to me."

"I don't even know you."

"Well, let me fix that." She continued to stroke his hair and told him all about her family and her life, told him about falling in love with Sam, and her years at Stanford. He never spoke just listened. She did note that when she spoke of her love for his brother, tears slipped from his closed eyes. "So, I've told you my life story." She said with joviality. "Now, who else has ditched you?" Dean opened his eyes long enough to see the honesty and concern in hers and decided he could tell some of it. She was going to be his sister one of these days after all. A sister. Wow. A girl in the Winchester family.

"My mom died, and Sammy left me and now my Dad won't return my calls. I've done everything that I know how to. I did exactly what he told me to do even after Sammy left. I wanted to go get Sammy. I wanted Sammy by my side but Dad said that he wasn't a part of the family and I followed, and he still ditched me. I didn't realize I was such a screw up."

"Dean."

"No you asked. So I'm going to tell you." He licked his lips. "I keep pushing Sam away because I don't' want him to end up like me. It is the only thing I can give him, my absence, and I want him mad at me so he'll stay away. I don't want him dead, missing out on his the life he wanted. I don't' want him in a crap motel room bleeding out of his gut, hoping that he has the energy to go to the car and get the first aid kit. I don't want my brother to have this life. I want him happy and safe. And if I have to give up what I want most in the world than I'll do it. He deserves you Jessica. Not this life." Jessica bit her lip trying not cry. She hadn't expected that. She had expected him to say a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them.

"Go to sleep Dean. I'll be here when you wake up." She was there when he woke up, she was there with a glass of water, some pain killers and food. She stayed the whole weekend and talked to him, got to know him better, and found that she liked this man.

"Jess? Is that you?" Sam asked when the door opened.

"It's me Sam!" she called from the front, put her keys down, and hurried over to where he was typing away on his lap top. She hugged him from behind, and put just a little more love into it than usual. She wanted to give him some of Dean's love.

"You have a good time with your sister?" he asked.

"Yeah. I did. I learned a lot." She kissed his cheek. "I love you Sam." She gave a bit smile and went into the bathroom to take a shower, she hadn't taken one in close to three days, and Sam watched her curiously, she seemed different, and for the life of him he couldn't peg why.


	34. End

He did it. He was responsible for the beautiful girl on the ceiling and his baby brother distraught by his side. If he could have just kept to himself this wouldn't have happened. But when Dad had disappeared on him, he hadn't known what to do. Dean Winchester had been alone a lot in the last 4 years but he had never been so alone that people wouldn't answer the phone when he called. So, doing what he did best, he screwed up the life that he swore he would leave alone and allow to live the normal life he wanted.

Jessica had done a very good job of pretending they didn't know each other and he made the comments Sam expected from his sleaze brother. Sam, begrudgingly went with him to hunt the woman in white and Dean found himself saying exactly what he promised himself he wouldn't "Sam we make a good team." Sam, thankfully had resisted and got out of the car. Dean had turned up the radio trying to drown out the noise of his heart and thoughts, when he saw the flickering and just knew that his brother was in trouble.

Now, he had what he wanted, his baby brother, but he was upset with himself, mad at their father, and furious with the thing that killed his mother and now took his future sister. He hadn't been able to save her, just like his father hadn't been able to save their mother, but Dean managed to save his little brother's life once again. But the life he saved would never be the same, and decided that it wanted to pursue the thing that killed the women in their lives, abandoning his dreams of being a lawyer, of being normal.

Thus Ending the College Years.

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A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing this story. I have been absoultely amamzed at the response to this story. You guys have really driven me to write more and to be better at it, I hope I have lived up to your expectations. So, now that I've flattered you, I have a question, would you guys like a follow up to this one that basically covers the first season and the two of them getting to know each other again? Let me know please. Thanks again for reading. Stacey


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